Spring
2002
Volume 1 • Issue 3 Write Between the Linesis an exploration and articulation of the obvious and the obscure.
A cavalcade of creation and commentary designed to amuse and bemuse.
Girl
Talk
Jill
Sobule - Pink Pearl
Music
Review
by
Sam Dlugach
From
the opening marimba lines that double her vocals, you know you're
in for something fresh on Jill Sobule's fourth album, Pink
Pearl. This is pop for thinkers, with innovative arrangements
and an intelligent lyrical treatment of mature, frequently dark,
subject matter.
Sobule's songs sneak up on you: light, happy-go-lucky tunes
belie the deep sarcasm that runs throughout her work. This installment's
menu includes mental illness, anorexia, child abuse, and disillusionment
with one's lovers and heroes. Yet these songs are so filled
with uncommon wit and the genuine joy of performance they can
raise a smile and a snicker. It is this balancing act between
elation and desperation that makes Sobule's songs so compelling.
In Mary Kay, Sobule spins a yarn about a certain notorious teacher
and her adolescent lover. Opening with a hilarious montage of
sampled melodramatic strings, the sordid tale unfolds and the
tune turns acoustic with Jill's finger-picked guitar and vocals,
then dramatically builds to a full arrangement featuring co-producer
Brad Jones on bass and harmonium. It all ends as surprisingly
as it begins, with a reprise of Mickey Grimm's noisy drums,
an ominous undamped floor tom ringing out to the end.
Claire, one of the album's strongest entries, has good-natured
fun with an aunt's increasing senility: "She told me back
in '44 she slept with Eleanor / Sometimes she gets confused
/ For all we know it's true," then takes a surprising sad
turn, shifting voices: "Have you been here before? / Are
you someone I should know? / Then perhaps you better go."
Similarly bipolar, Heroes is a rousing, very live (complete
with hand claps and yells) sounding anthem to the clay feet
of our most revered role models.
Jill Sobule's recording method is rather democratic: after laying
down basic tracks, she instigates a Nashville studio free-for-all
until just the right sound happens, inviting ideas from all
corners. Though the instrumentation is wonderfully varied, ranging
from Moog to timpani to pump organ, this recording often lays
cardboard flat, suffering from an overall compression through
which occasional percussion is allowed to punch. Especially
dynamically challenged are Jill's lead vocals, in contrast to
her springy guitar.
Sobule's tentative singing is far from perfect, but her lack
of control reads as honesty and vulnerability, not as poor technique.
Emphasizing this vocal candor is the fact that she is recorded
bone dry, without a hint of reverb. To her credit, this takes
real guts. To our benefit, the effect is arresting and immediate.
Here one is reminded of Sam Phillips' stark dry vocals on Martinis
and Bikinis, minus the transcendent harmonies.
Oddly, the most sonically pleasing track is the one most crudely
recorded. The home 4-track demo Rock Me To Sleep is a sweet
and gentle lullaby, sung without a trace of Sobule's usual cynicism.
Beautifully simple, and constructed of only Jill's voice and
guitar, one can hear through the analog hiss a performance that
is real and captivating. One wishes Sobule would learn from
this lesson in simplicity. It's the songs that matter.
