Album Reviews

I turned 50 when the car manufacturer Saab turned 50, so I celebrated my half century, by treating myself to a day at the Skip Barber racing school held in conjunction with Saab's 50th anniversary celebration/annual Saab club convention, which took place that summer (1997) at the beautiful Waterville Valley Ski Resort-no dogs allowed.

So while I was driving up alone on Wednesday in my vintage 1972 Saab 96, my wife was meeting me Friday afternoon and bringing the dogs. We found a “dog-friendly” place about 20 minutes from the resort, in the form of a series of “rustic,” (read decrepit) closely spaced cabins arranged in a semi-circle. I arrived after dark, tired and sweaty (no air conditioning in the old car) after an eight-hour drive. The place was a dive, but I didn't care. All I wanted to do was go to bed so I'd be fresh the next morning for my 6:30AM Skip Barber racetrack appointment at the New Hampshire International Speedway.

The evening was peaceful and cool, the crickets were chirping and the fresh air had me out in what seemed like just a few minutes. Suddenly the unmistakable heavy metal introduction to Deep Purple's “Smoke on the Water” shredded the stillness. It was loud. It was distorted. It was coming from a boombox on the adjacent cabin's porch but a few feet from where I had been sleeping.

I moved to the other side of the cabin to get away from the noise but the guy kept playing “Smoke on the Water,” over and over again. Just “Smoke on the Water.” About play number 5, I couldn't take it anymore, so I told him, in language he was sure to understand to “turn it the fuck down.”

Back came a drunken, threat-filled tirade coming from a voice pressed directly against the window screen of my cabin. Now came “Smoke on Water” even louder and more distorted. I covered my head with the pillow and waited. An hour or so and more than a dozen “Smoke on the Water”'s later, it was over.

Early the next morning as I was heading to my car, a central casting, long-hair slinked submissively over to me and apologized profusely for his rude behavior. The cabin, he told me, was his home. He worked in a body shop and getting drunk and playing “Smoke on the Water” and a few other tunes was his relief from a miserable life.

What does that have to do with Judith Owen's latest? Well, the disc opens with her unlikely, jazzy version of “Smoke on the Water,” and had it been the edition played next door in New Hampshire, instead of telling the guy to turn it down, I would have asked for an encore.

12 Arrows, Owens' 2003 self-released CD on her “Dog on the Bed Music” label (see review http://www.musicangle.com/album.php?id=120) had been impressive, but this new one, featuring a mix of originals and covers is even better.

Owen is no studio creation: live, she's feisty, funny and sings with even greater emotional abandon and communicative skill than she does on record, though this set better captures her live sensibility than the previous outing, even though this one's more heavily produced, while at the same time more skillfully arranged..

An intimate jazz-pop singer reminiscent of Shirley Horn or later Joni Mitchell (who keys even more heavily off of Horn), Owen's tone is pristine if a bit breathy and edgy, backed by authoritative control and an upper register that can slice right through you in a good way. She is also a skilled pianist, which makes the live show all the more compelling.

Along with “Smoke on the Water,” (on 12 Arrows she was equally adept at re-interpreting Soundgarden's equally unlikely “Black Hole Sun”) and Sting's “Walking on the Moon,” Owen covers the standards “These Foolish Things,” and “Night and Day” (backed by Richard Thompson's guitar). These let you know how good an interpreter she is, but it's the originals here that standout.

“Emily,” a dramatic song about personal liberation is graced by a gorgeous melody fitted with a pointed hook. “Sky High,” a song about temptation and coolness has an addictive Steely Dan lilt (and horn part). The sensuous “Moonlight,” filled with both comfort and longing and backed by a lush string section (the Northwest Sinfonia). “Train Out of Hollywood,” about chasing the dream, is the most Mitchell-esque of the lot but Owen's assertiveness makes it all her own.

Owen, wife of comedian Harry Shearer, has plenty of famous friends helping out here, including Keb 'Mo' (a superbly drawn Dobro backdrop on “Train….”), Tom Scott, Cassandra Wilson and the aforementioned Richard Thompson (Shearer adds back-up on the _ time “Famous Friends”), but this album is all about Ms. Owen, who could carry it with just her voice and piano. That said, her musical soul partner, double bassist Sean Hurley adds the ideal foundation throughout the deftly arranged album.

Add great sound (a bit of tape hiss points to analog, and I know for a fact that Shearer is a vinyl man), with the acoustic instruments carefully and sensitively miked, and you have an album and a recording artist that's easy to champion. When you see Owen live, the bond will be complete: she's funny, endearing, intimate and gives her all. It's easy to recommend this new album, and by all means if Owen plays live near you, go see her. You'll come away charmed, impressed, and an even bigger fan than you'll be when you get to know Lost and Found.