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- <text id=93TT2335>
- <title>
- Jan. 18, 1993: Reviews:Music
- </title>
- <history>
- TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1993
- Jan. 18, 1993 Fighting Back: Spouse Abuse
- </history>
- <article>
- <source>Time Magazine</source>
- <hdr>
- REVIEWS
- MUSIC, Page 60
- Frets and Flourishes
- </hdr>
- <body>
- <p>By RICHARD CORLISS
- </p>
- <qt>
- <l>PERFORMER: SHAWN COLVIN</l>
- <l>ALBUM: Fat City</l>
- <l>LABEL: Columbia</l>
- </qt>
- <p> THE BOTTOM LINE: An urban folkie gets straight to the
- heart with poignant ballads of remorse and resilience.
- </p>
- <p> One nice thing about female singer-songwriters is that
- they don't have to pretend to be guys. Guy singers do. Dead
- scared of being tagged sensitive, they get muscle-bound in
- machismo; it cramps their style and muddies their palette. But
- Annie Lennox or Bonnie Raitt or Mary-Chapin Carpenter can find
- shading in passion, a smile in sorrow. Especially in sorrow. For
- these artists, love is a thing felt most deeply when it's lost.
- So their songs are mostly past tense: the awful stuff that
- happened to them, the brave face they can put on it. They must
- be survivors, because they sure can sing about what death feels
- like. They were there; they're still here.
- </p>
- <p> With her second album, Fat City, Shawn Colvin earns entry
- into this august group. For a start, she has a gorgeous voice
- that ranges from the jazz phrasing of Anita O'Day to the
- girlish soprano of primal folkie Carolyn Hester. Like her idol
- Joni Mitchell, whose husband Larry Klein produced the album,
- Colvin paints delicate word landscapes of analysand wonderlands.
- Like Carpenter, who sings backup on the anthemic Climb On (A
- Back That's Strong), Colvin, 32, has paid beaucoup dues,
- working the Manhattan folk scene for more than a decade, in
- between gigs singing jingles and touring in Pump Boys and
- Dinettes. With Fat City she needn't worry about paying the rent.
- Its 11 songs are strong, tuneful, as hard to shake off as a
- wraith's visitation or a first love.
- </p>
- <p> But Colvin will worry; it's what she does for a living. It
- makes Fat City a set mostly of frets and flourishes. Even the
- perkiest number, the irresistibly Beatle esque Round of Blues,
- hedges its best hopes ("I see lights in a fat city/ I feel love
- again") by wondering if this buoyancy heralds "a new
- breakthrough" or "an old breakdown." And in the soft, scary
- Monopoly, about a departed lover, Colvin flays herself: "I'd
- rather do anything/ Than write this song for you." She warns
- herself not to soften the blow with irony: "Retreating behind
- these lines/ The same old tongue in cheek/ Regretting that both
- are mine." She swells into Faustian rage ("Imagine the nerve of
- God/ Letting me let you in") before sinking with the admission
- that "I would be anywhere/ Than here without you." This is
- bitter poetry: passion recollected in futility.
- </p>
- <p> And then, at the end, she delivers a direct hit to the
- heart. Colvin has already shown us how much she knows, so the
- naked sentiment of I Don't Know Why startles: "I don't know why/
- The sky is so blue/ And I don't know why/ I'm so in love with
- you." The tune's long notes suggest a cathedral dirge, but in
- the purity of Colvin's voice you'll hear an affirmation of hope
- against reason, a declaration of faith in the unknown. It is the
- boldness of a heart that has lived in dark places and is tougher
- for the journey. And now it's in fat city, to stay.
- </p>
-
-
- </body>
- </article>
- </text>
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