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- MUSIC, Page 74Throwing In the Crying Towel
-
-
- Phoebe Snow beats the blues with a fine new album
-
- By Jay Cocks
-
-
- It seemed like a fine time. She was out of school, hanging
- out in Greenwich Village, and Charlie Parker was teaching her
- to sing. "Not that Charlie Parker," Phoebe Snow says now, but
- still, this was a time of awakening. At the urging of Parker,
- her "first boyfriend," Snow was beginning to experiment with the
- crystalline grace of her four-octave voice, getting a grip on
- her crippling shyness, actually starting to perform. She made
- a debut album, she had a hit, she was on her way. Then her luck
- faded. So did she.
-
- That was the mid-'70s. There was music after that, but none
- of it was as consistent or as solid; none of it was as soulful.
- Now Phoebe Snow is back, with her first album in eight years,
- whose title, Something Real, is a cool bit of understatement.
- The record is so real -- so immediate -- that the feelings
- described in its ten songs become almost palpable. The rhythms
- swing easy and rock on request, but the tunes have lyrics so
- vivid that each becomes an epigram from a broken heart.
-
- What gives the songs their staying power is their instant
- emotional familiarity, the way they seem to carry so much of
- Snow's emotional freight with no strain. The record's last song,
- Cardiac Arrest, is a kick, a stops-out rocker that dares to be
- a little goofy, that cuts the listener a little welcome slack.
- Even here, though, Snow is laughing at the expense of a mangled
- heart. The women Snow sings about put themselves at perpetual
- high risk. I'm Your Girl, the record's midpoint and one of its
- high points, sounds at first like another improbably beguiling
- Snow song about love gone bad. I'm Your Girl is a love song, all
- right, but it is about Snow's mother Lili, who died of cancer
- in 1986.
-
- Lili Grossman was a former Martha Graham dancer who married
- an entertainer turned exterminator and raised Phoebe and her
- sister in the subdued suburban environs of Teaneck, N.J. Phoebe
- was a shy child. "If you remember," she says, "in high school
- there were always a couple of kids whose clothes were on
- crooked, whose glasses were really thick and hung sideways.
- Their hair was never right, and their clothes didn't match, and
- they looked like little lost souls wandering down the hallway.
- That was me."
-
- It was the music she heard, and the music Parker urged her
- to make, that brought her out of herself. She was making demo
- tapes the night she heard that Parker had ODed. But he had left
- her a legacy: a little self-confidence. And some hard luck. Her
- first album, released in 1974, is still treasured as one of the
- seminal singer-songwriter testaments of the decade. There were
- enervating legal problems over record deals. Her subsequent
- releases turned unfocused, uncertain. And there were personal
- tragedies. Snow's daughter Valerie was born with brain damage
- in 1975. Music was no longer so much a refuge and release; it
- became just another component of a great struggle. Snow resolved
- to care for her daughter at home, but then almost died herself
- a few years back from a sickness she declines to specify. She
- now supports herself and Valerie mostly by singing advertising
- jingles.
-
- If quality can prevail, then the success of Something Real
- ought to put some long distance between Snow and ditties for
- AT&T. "If you survive something traumatic," she says, "you are
- never the same again. If you survive two traumatic things, you
- take a quantum leap in your spiritual self. You're never the
- same again. Life is looking up. I am a crying towel, but thank
- God I can do that. I don't know where I'd be if I didn't cry at
- least once a week." That's the real beat beneath her new album.
- The faint sound of broken hearts mending. The rhythm of life
- restored.
-
-
- -- Elizabeth L. Bland/New York
-
-