Sonny Rollins once told a friend of mine, critic Garry Giddins, "Don't ever shrink from the belief that you have to prove yourself every minute, because you do." Then Sonny asked how old Theo was doing, and Garry said "Fine". I'm doing well because there are artists in the indie music community whose work proves the "slacker generation" is not all about slacking. When I beat Garry to the punch and interviewed Ida, I saw not only their glowing love of music (and the thrill a Lou Reed or Prince record might give them), but their burning motivation to always one-up their past. Among the ways they improve their work is through side projects, like Beekeeper and Liquorice, and by helping to add greatness to friends' albums. Their musical achievements make it clear that Ida's concern is for the project at hand, not for extraneous crap like fame or fortune.
Like the members of Ida, Corrina Repp keeps a busy schedule by offering assistance on many HUSH and Jealous Butcher releases. Pick any album recorded in Portland in the years since her great debut, A Boat Called Hope, was released; chances are, if the record was good, Corrina helped out. On her second full length, her generous support on friends' records has been paid back handsomely. The first six tunes far surpass any hopes or expectations a person could have, while tracks seven through ten live up to the promise of Repp's debut, giving Westerners their own Cowboy Junkie to kill them softly.
The songs define the phrase "so good it hurts", and I will never have enough time to fully exalt them. The first eight or ten seconds of the disc are about roaring guitar...and then quiet, leading to questions ("What if I never raised my voice?") whose answers ("You'd never know how weak I can be") refer to the person, not the song. These songs are not at all weak, but add more delicate muscle upon a foundation built in the seventies by Sandy Denny and Linda Thompson. The poetry is subtle but powerful; never forced, it is as natural as a Mark Strand or Charles Simic could make a line appear. Speaking of a failed relationship, she sings "I put his coat on/It never quite fit". Of a "happier" relationship, "I take on your nights/Even when you cry".
As for Repp's voice, it perfectly complements the songs. I might not want her to sing me "Happy Birthday", but her brand of fragile folk and country could please any fan of Trembling Blue Stars or the Lightning Seeds. Her voice has a softness that's so worn, it conveys the puncture marks of any of her thoughts. I Take On Your Days will lovingly take on your nights. Repp's lyrical insight -- which has grown so much that her next stage must will surely be omniscience -- will shower you with such beauty you'll cry like a child...then play the CD again.
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