Tony Peyser's "Blue State Jukebox"

April 20, 2006

Marshall Chapman's Mellowicious!

Tony Peyser's "Blue State Jukebox" Review -- April, 2006 Edition

My Dad used to say, "I love your music columns but I don't know any of these people." And I'd often respond, "Well, some of them are pretty new to me, too." Like Marshall Chapman.

A few months ago, I pulled a press release out of a padded envelope and thought, "Who is this guy?"

Wrong from the get-go.

Marshall Chapman is a woman.

Raised in a well-to-do North Carolina family, she rebelled, rocked and rolled with a 1977 album called Me, I'm Feelin' Free, followed in 1978 by the wickedly titled Jaded Virgin. Chapman moved to Nashville around then and her songs began being covered by folks at the top of the music food chain like Jimmy Buffett, John Hiatt and Emmylou Harris. Chapman was an outspoken, hard-living female singer before Chrissie Hynde and Lucinda Williams hit the scene. In her first studio album in nine years, the fifty-ish Chapman delivers eleven tracks dripping with sweet melodies, catchy hooks and a wisdom that comes from some serious (but not too serious) introspection.

To get a second opinion of Chapman, I called my friend Kim Webber in Knoxville. (I could have just e-mailed her but I adore her Southern drawl.) Kim used to book The Sutler, a hip little Nashville club where many of the brightest alt-country lights all appeared. "Do ah know Marshall Chapman? Of course! Ah luve her!" Kim has literally never recommended anyone to me that I didn't wind up becoming a fan of. Which isn't exactly a surprise since Kim is generally regarded as the den mother of the whole alt-country movement.

One of the aforementioned Hiatt's most famous compositions is "Have A Little Faith." That's the title of Chapman's first track and I assumed it was a cover. It's not. She's got enough moxie to dare to give her own song the same title. Call it a daily affirmation you can dance to. Chapman sprinkles a whole bunch off "whoo-hoo-whoo-hoos" in the background to pull it along. The end result is a bona fide pop gem. I love these lines: "Listen to your little voice/Cause all the rest/Is just noise." In these overcast Republican days, a reminder of the power of positive thinking is a very good thing. We will all survive this and then the real work begins. If "Have A Little Faith" doesn't improve your state of mind, look into counseling.

The next track is just as therapeutic. The horn driven "Island Song II" feels like something Chapman's old collaborator Buffett might've recorded. Once again, she knows that great songs are rooted in simple lyrical hooks: "I'd like to build a bridge to you/Build it strong enough to hold the truth." I'm sure that Chapman burned a lot of bridges back in the day and it's a sign of her good state of mind to now have a mind to rebuild them --- and with good foundations to boot. Bridges get burned out of frustration and also because building them is a) so much harder to do and b) takes so much more time. "Island Song II" will get you mulling over this whole metaphor. The cherry on the cake here comes around two minutes and thirty-eight seconds into the song. This is when some sweetly stunning electric guitar chords burst out. They sound like Chapman found Bobby Fuller in the afterlife, threw him a Stratocaster and asked to play some similar riffs from his classic hit, "I Fought The Law (And The Law Won.)" These strummy guitar blasts --- buffeted by percussive drums --- last about twenty seconds and are pure dynamite. I await them every time I hear the song like a favorite scene from a movie where the patient hero finally introduces the bad guy to his fist. Yeah, it's got that kind of raw power.

Chapman downshifts to a lower but no less satisfying gear with "Call The Lamas!" Here's the first verse that sums up her everyday epiphany: "I saw little Buddha in the checkout line/At the grocery store today ... he was sitting like a prince in his grocery cart/With a perfect smile on his face." It just goes to show that you never know where you'll be when something magical happens, i.e. seeing a wise old soul in the body of an innocent young child. It's a seductive, dreamy song that also has the weight of a wonderful poem, the kind that turns your head and makes you more aware of life's little majestic moments.

On "Downhill Slide," the momentum predictably perks up as Chapman cheekily lets some bad inclinations get the better of her. But she's such a wiseass about this predicament that you know it won't last for long. If you've ever spent a wee bit too much time on-line, this verse will sound like Chapman's been reading your e-mail: "I've been hanging out in chat rooms/How low can I go? Stirring up a lot of shit/With people I don't even know/Somebody hand me a shotgun/I'm tired of spinning my wheels/I'm gonna blow up this computer/Just to see how it feels." The shuffling rhythm gradually picks up speed to match her increasing sense of frustration at some of modern life's absurdities: "Satellite cell phone/Never have to be alone/Technology is everywhere/Even in the clothes we wear." Chapman hits a double bull's eye here since a) most people out and about seem to be always yammering away on their cell phones and b) some clothing manufacturers are now making shirts and pants with iPod pockets. (Marshall, by the way, is a regular contributor with commentaries and music to "The Bob Edwards Show" on XM Satellite Radio. So, somebody with an iPod tucked in their iPod pocket has surely heard one of her XM podcasts and perhaps even that very line about iPod-friendly clothing. Phew!)

The only track here with some political content is done in an unusual way. Chapman herself admits that it's hard to believe that something called "I Love Everybody (I Love Everything)" is a political song but that's exactly what it is. Co-written a few years ago with Tim Krekel, it's a choogling track with sparks that harkens back to the peace-love-and-understanding era: "Living in a world of trouble/Living in a world of pain/All I have to do is turn my TV on/To see a world that's gone insane/I think there might be a solution/If people everywhere would sing/I love everybody/I love everything." Like so much of Chapman's album, it's a song that defiantly makes you feel better, suggesting that hope is a only few doors down your block or, better yet, just waiting to be discovered in full bloom on your doorstep.

I'm betting Chapman won't wait another nine years to record another studio album. She has the kind of sly smarts that deserve to be shared with the rest of the class on a more regular basis. Until then, I happily tip my hat to this gutsy gal who shows you can kick your demons to the curb without ever messing up your hair or taking off your sunglasses.

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Tony Peyser writes political poems every day for BuzzFlash and draws editorial cartoons twice weekly. His new music column, The Blue State Jukebox, is now a monthly feature for BuzzFlash. Mr. Peyser (who loves referring to himself in the third person) is shamelessly using BuzzFlash as a springboard to help him land his dream job: becoming the new Washington Bureau Chief for Talon News.