Tracy Shedd
Arizona
(New Granada 2013)
Back on
January 15th of this year, I posted a “review” of Tracy Shedd’s fifth album Arizona,
which was released in November of last year.
I put “review” in quotes, because it was really some kind of attempt to
capture the feel of the album without the usual rundown of hyperbole. It was framed as a letter to a long lost
flame from a long time ago, who, rumor had it, was struggling with debilitating
depression. It was part album review,
part letter in earnest, and part fiction.
It felt wrong the moment I posted it, but decided to stick with it
hoping that it would seem better in retrospect (you can see the mess here).
But, as I listen to this album for about the 3,000th time
right now, after contemplating my favorite records of the year (see here), I thought I’d revisit and try to
correct – or maybe make things worse.
This 2013
album turned out to be my favorite album of 2014. This is in large part due to the fact that it
speaks to me in a deeply personal way.
These songs are about a good many things, but I have tended to decipher
the bulk of these as a message of support to someone in crisis. The song “Control” addresses suicide
directly. Shedd pleas to a person on the
verge by simply saying to them “don’t end it all tonight.” It doesn’t get more direct than that, nor
does it ever fail to send shivers down my spine. This direct communication may be part of why
this album has been so powerful for me.
Shedd conveys a comfortable environment that’s about appreciating those
we love around us (“and I’ll miss you
when you’re gone” – “Take a Ride”), and the memories that can carry us
through the worst of times (“Boats,” “Million Pictures”), and by giving a
genuine heart to heart plea to someone to not throw all of these things away,
as in “Control” and “You’re No Fool,” her music and lyrics act as a guiding
light to those of us who are genuinely in dark places. She says the things that need to be heard –
the things that more often than not are not ever conveyed. How does one broach the subject of depression
to their friends and family? How does
one ask for help? How does one help
someone in need? It’s not as easy as it
seems like it should be.
This record
is not only lyrically direct, but also musically. These songs are stripped down to mainly the
twin acoustic guitars of Tracy Shedd and her husband James Tritten. Their
interplay is seamless. Tritten plucks
out clear, memorable, and fully realized guitar melodies – making the spare
arrangements seem greater than the sum of their parts, yet not so much so that
the personal nature of Shedd’s lyrics gets buried in the mix. This album feels and sounds like a few really
talented friends gathered right in front of you playing amazing songs. Her choice of covers (The Magnetic Field’s early classic “Candy” and Sonic Youth’s breakthrough steamroller “Teenage Riot”) is
remarkable as well. These are songs that
have always resonated with me and have provided strong memories, yet framed in
this sparse environment “Teenage Riot” is like a brand new song.
The quiet
solitude of the opening “Sweet Talking” is a concise love song that covers the
joy of being with a loved one and the hope for it to continue all the way till
death in a meager two and a half minutes.
Likewise, the beautiful “Sing to Me” balances between both the closeness
needed in life and the despair of death.
This dichotomy continues on “Friday Night at Einstein’s” – a story about
losing oneself on the dance floor (reminding thematically of The Sundays’ flowing “She”) that is
both life-affirming and lonely. Elsewhere
the lighter touch of the duet “All the Little Things” brightens the overall
feel of the record, as does the chorus of the soul searching “Million
Pictures,” and the summery and hummable “Broken Arrows,” who’s mantra of “you
can die trying / or you can die with a broken heart” is still a rallying cry
that resonates and reminds to keep on giving this shit show an effort.
This redo
plus the strange letter review from January may together make this review a
little more complete, but I’m afraid I’m still missing the mark (part of the reason in general why I may give this writing about music hobby a permanent rest). Simply put, and probably all I’ve needed to
say is: Arizona is an album that is humble and
subtle, but one of great magnitude and impact.
I cannot recommend this with any greater enthusiasm.
Tracy Shedd "Broken Arrows"