Album Reviews

If the point of this record is to transport the listener back in time to an intimate late-1800's musical recital in some well-to-do mid-westerner's or southerner's living room parlor, perhaps overlooking the Mississippi River, then it is a complete success. Even if it has some other purpose and I'm totally wrong, the record is a winner.

On her last album, Homewrecker, De Lisle used a similar sonic and musical sleight of hand to create an equally effective though totally different transportive sensation. On that disc, the mind's eye wandered into a sandy, desolate sun-parched southwestern trailer park full of hardships and intense personal conflicts. At least mine did.

Here the hills are rolling green, the ground moist, the air heavy and God protects all. There are conflicts but the balm of nostalgia soothes. Like any primo storyteller, De Lisle draws larger than life characters in this set of originals, like the “Sharecroppin' Man” or the “Jewel of Abiliene.”

There's more of Johnny and June's Appalachia here (the album's dedicated to them), than Willie Nelson's Texas; more innocence and goodness than violence and sin and an unusually intimate relationship between De Lisle and the microphone-as if it and the listener are eavedropping on very private moments of longing and despair.

The all-acoustic arrangements are spare and cleanly rendered: stand up bass, autoharp, celeste, acoustic guitar and the like, but a few of the songs, like “Katy Allen,” deliver a dream-like reverie thanks to the mysterious day-is-done drone of a pedal harmonium and some carefully applied modern day electronica.

Any traces of kitsch or novelty act that tinted the view of De Lisle's last album have been wiped clean. This is a serious effort and the singer is more than up to the task. She's able to sing in a fluttery, delicate nightingale-like tone that makes Alison Krauss sound like Janis Joplin (you'll think your 'table is spinning at 45 instead of 33 1/3 for a few seconds into the opening tune), or she can open both barrels and let loose with a throaty barrage. In a fluorescent light world, De Lisle is all candlelight.

De Lisle is a self-proclaimed audiophile and however this was recorded (supposedly at home), the sound is exquisite. A purity, three dimensionality, transparency and liquidity all too rare today seeps from the grooves, helping to give this record an eerie “breath of life” sensation every play. Producer Marvin Etzioni should get a Grammy for this. A special limited edition (1000) includes an astonishing re-working and performance of Stephen Foster's “Willie We Have Missed You,” on a 7”single and a DVD on the making of the album and the single.

I didn't watch the DVD until just now and it's a short, sweet home made product that shows you know the album being recorded live at home using vintage analog gear. De Lisle's concept as she explains it on the video is a bit different than what I'd imagined, but I was close enough.

Live music-making of the highest, most heartfelt sort, recorded to vintage analog gear and cut analog to 180g vinyl. Does it get any better than this? Not really. An album to savored. You won't be disappointed-unless you want the limited edition and they run out before you get yours.