CD Review: David Byrne Grown Backwards
A bit belated but beloved, bright, and bountiful, I waited to write anything on my thoughts of this record until I’d listened to it at least three times and had at least let two months pass. David Byrne is of the nature of so many artists that beguile me – when I buy their latest I am disappointed, so depressed that it wasn’t all that I had expected, only to discover later that I’d been impatient and snotty and the album was better than I could have imagined.
Okay, maybe that’s a bit too mooshy, but David’s been around a long time and continues to amaze with everything he does, including the unlistenables. He has an Oscar AND it was deserved.
Finally, this time, all grown-up now, I listened to each song and found it much like Rufus Wainwright’s Want One in it’s orchestral beauty and melancholy vocalist, but that’s probably because Rufus nabbed a guest spot singing duet – a wonderful piece of chocolate trouffle to find hidden in the album. Mr. Byrne even does a little opery. And gets away with it.
The only thing that could be disappointing anyone about this album is that Byrne’s listeners are almost spoiled that he can once more tool a work with no missteps though full of oddities and strangities.
Along the more sober route is the drunkenly torturous Shelby Lynne having her continued Identity Crisis. I hear person after person say they “like all kinds of music” and would love to have a CD that just “goes everwhere.” For the fourth time, Shelby’s done an album that does just that – goes everywhere. And as they say, when you’re good, you can do anything and the crowd will be on your side. The CD bodes well for that argument. Now if the audience, all those "all kinds of music" people, would just realize that Norah Jones and Diana Krall aren't the only consistent divas. Buy her.
Shelby’s a powerhouse of a voice but it’s the fact that she knows what pain is and she knows how to sing it. It’s a hurts-good thing to do. I'll be doing it again.
I can’t form an opinion on this CD because I neither love nor hate it, but I’ll offer that everyone I loan it to wants a copy. I won’t let them do that. I used to fear the Telephone Cops worst of all but now it’s the Record Company Cops. They shoot teenagers don’t they?
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