There is a phenomenon of the debut album. The theory is that
many great artists have about oh…one great album in them, and that the process
of developing into an artist is the gestation period that the one masterpiece
in them needs to prepare for birth. This is obviously an oversimplification,
which gives short shrift to the artistic process and to the ongoing
accomplishments of many important artists. Yet, there does seem to be some
abiding truth to the fact that some artists spend their early lives so deeply
in visualization and preparation, that when the debut album does come out, it
is an overwhelming and defining creative statement, containing the individuals’
most realized work. Such is the case with Phoebe Snow’s magnificent self-titled
1974 debut. She had a long and distinguished career with many highlights, yet
she never seemed to transcend this first, fully-formed artistic statement.
Possessed
of a voice that defies categorization or genre, she was equal parts Billie Holiday,
Laura Nyro and Bessie Smith. Her tone is clear and perfect with a jazzy quaver,
yet her performances are all deeply informed by the blues she loved so. Her
writing produced heartfelt, poetic and intelligent songs of artistic ideation
and lost love. Heartbreak is her constant companion, and would remain so for
the rest of her life as she fought for the health of her daughter and
eventually herself, in a career marked by tragedy and lost opportunity. And yet
Phoebe Snow stands as one of the
absolutely great first albums. There are no weak songs, including her two
covers, “Let The Good Times Roll” and “San Francisco Bay Blues,” and the best
of her originals – “Poetry Man,” “Harpo’s Blues,” “Either or Both,” “I Don’t
Want The Night To End” and “Take Your Children Home” - succeed as poetry and
song. Take for example “Harpo’s Blues,” her tribute to an early lover who died
tragically. The lyrics are a beautifully sustained balance of reference and
original thought:
I wish I was a soft refrain
When the lights were out
I’d play and be your friend
I strut and fret my hour
Upon the stage
The hour is up
I have to run and hide my rage
With her own substantial guitar chops and unearthly voice,
she is accompanied by Zoot Sims, Bob James and others to create an unbelievably
poignant and lovely recording. I don't usually buy into lists, but if I had to
make a desert island compilation of songs, this one would be on it. It falls
into a small category of gerascophobic songs, or songs about the fear of
growing up. In the final verse she sings:
I'd like to be a willow, a lover, a mountain
or a soft refrain
But I'd hate to be a grownup
and have to try to bear
my life in pain
It's hard to put into words how strongly this song and this album affected me as a 17-year old, however the acid test here is that I find it even more affecting now. In fact, there has never been a time that I've listened to this album that I haven't come away with a deeper appreciation for the singer and her songs, and that is incredibly rare.
I don't think I'm alone in this, because “Poetry Man” was
covered by many and remains a beloved folk/rock staple, however, because Phoebe
Snow was forced to turn her back on fame, she has been forgotten by many and
has been relegated to the historical back shelf. Her debut album is a stunner
from start to finish combining a truly original voice, all the magic that
professional recording studios and ace musicians of the era could bring, and a
truly great set of songs, combining to make this one of the albums that built
my emotional life and my store.
-
Paul Epstein
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