{grate 3} Soft, dramatic and slow — Cat Power’s (AKA Chan Marshall)
mostly new cover-based album slinks up on you like an unexpected Prince
Charming at a dive bar. Drink in one hand and joint in the other, Marshall
whisper-croons her thick-bodied soul version of songs by artists like Janis
Joplin, Billie Holiday and Marshall’s own lyrical crush, Bob Dylan, into your
ear.
But like any true shitty bar hook-up, what starts out as
novel fun ends up fading with the first few drops of startling sobriety.
starts out strong, with a version of “
hard-pressed to recognize, setting the mood for Jukebox as an intriguing tweak
of classics into full-bodied, countrified blues numbers as only she can do.
Even if Sinatra couldn’t pick his song out of her musical
lineup, the modifications enacted by the veteran songstress are gritty and
moving. She takes the grandstand out of New York and replaces it with a city
that kicks your ass while it takes your name, infusing the old adage “I want to
be a part of it” with a blush-worthy sensuality.
She tackles some old material in the form of her grownup
take on “Metal Heart,” a song originally heard on 1998’s Moon Pix, this time
around pushing a wise intensity into the fragile lyrics of yesteryear.
But the best moment of Jukebox happens when
blatantly adores Dylan via the only
original track on the album, “Song to Bobby.” It’s a frank admission of
balls-out long standing Dylan-love: “Giving you my heart was my plan/ I wish I
could tell you.” With her paper-thin voice backed by the Dirty Delta Blues, she
creates a relaxing mix of covers that diverge from 2000’s The Covers Record.
But the gusto she injects into her country ballads and tunes
of idolatry get lost around the middle and end when she tackles James Brown and
Dylan. Rather than reinventing the magic of folk or R&B, she executes the
verses almost too faithfully, maintaining the heart of the tune but dragging
the music down in her own tragedy-soaked voice.
To both a benefit and a detriment,
immerses herself in the music, slowing it all down to toil through another
artist’s work in her own melancholy fashion. By the end of the album, it’s hard
not to mentally check out and head bob as the long journey comes to a close and
the music’s lethargy peaks. Though a passionate collection, Jukebox is a
slow-jam parade of hits that soothe more often than they stimulate.