Album: You Are FreeArtist: Cat PowerMatador Records
It’s been four long years since Cat Power has graced us with a collection of somber and salient original works. Was it the characteristic melancholy of Cat Power’s lead singer Chan Marshall that left fans waiting in want for her next mournful meow? Listen to You Are Free at least a few times before you make judgment calls as to what she’s been up to. It certainly wasn’t getting her degree in happiness, as the positive declaration of the title track would suggest. Worry not though — don’t assume you’ll find the doyenne of dark folk muddied in a heroin mishap. She gives fans a hearty southern hello and boasts of her fondness for french fries in an interview found on the Matador Records web page.
Marshall has changed insomuch as she’s made new friends, and continues to polish her homespun brand of acoustic sorrow, while haunting each groove of the vinyl she graces with the echoes of banished sparrows. The likes of Dave Groll of Foo Fighters give her some backing on drums and bass, and Eddie Vedder steps in on vocals to mark the macabre melodies. Their contributions show respect for Marshall, rather than a recasting of musical style — a style so simple, so wonderfully heart-aching, that to trump her with an all-star cast would be like stitching up your favorite frayed jean jacket. Thankfully, Vedder and Groll stay in their place in the background and avoid pop star grandstanding.
The cover art for You Are Free frightens one at first, with its green sprawling lawns and peaceful images. Will Chan lay a White Chocolate Space Egg, as did Liz Phair after she found well-deserved complacency, causing the music to suffer from the loss of the rage which fueled it? One does not find peace in this album, but rather Marshall at her best — a composer of genre-breaking stature, breathing her soulful melodies in whispers that evoke harmonic howls. She’s been complimented by critics for her schizophrenic style, and her wonderful renderings of folk greats such as Bob Dylan on The Covers album.
Let it be known that Chan hasn’t grown out of the sadness that makes her so important as a musician, but has blissfully grown into it. She lets us into the personal history of her despondency on the track Names, a retrospection of the tortured youth we can only guess she knew too well at ages ten through fourteen. “Perry…he had a learning difficulty…his father was a very mean man…his father burned his skin…his father sent him to his death…he was ten years old.”
If that’s not enough to clue you in as to what sparks her spirited pain, she elaborates further on the same track about her relationship with Cheryl. “She would pretty paint my face…black hair like electric space…she was a very good friend…her father would come to her in the night…she was twelve years old.” As in most cases, the beauty herein lies not in the story, but in the storyteller. Chan tells these stories making you wish you were there with her to give her a hug. It doesn’t seem as though she needs one though, and she lets fans in on a bit of advice when it comes to musician idolatry: “Don’t be in love with the autograph, just be in love when you sing that song.”
For those lucky enough to see the Cat Power on their limited U.S. tour, chances are you’ll find out who’s really free. It’s Chan Marshall who is free. Free to make expertly stylized albums and find serenity in her sorrows, with a loving and loyal fan base. Future conversations about who’s who in folk will include the question-and-answer dialogue: Who is Cat Power? Answer: You haven’t heard of any of Chan Marshall’s work?