REVIEW: Paul Kelly, Words and Music (Vanguard)
- Emma Green
He may be one of the industry's finest musicians, a true Texas-style songwriter capable of defining universal truths and holding the respect of millions worldwide (all this despite his Australian roots). So why does his name seem as unfamiliar as your second cousin twice removed whom you met for the first time last year in a drunken stupor at Uncle Bob's fortieth birthday bash?
It's remarkable that such a capable and prolific songwriter could exist in a commercial no man's land outside his own country, forever destined to suffer through stagnant indifference and squandering sales. As much as America loves to export and replicate its cultural image overseas, things rarely work the other way around. The sad truth is that Paul Kelly doesn't really fit with the commercial vision of U.S. radio, except on those rare dialstops on the overcrowded ether (which Rolling Stone noted earlier this year as "Radio Stations That Don't Suck").
If Paul Kelly is an unfamiliar name, it's time to learn something about the man who the Australian Recording Industry Association (roughly equivalent to the US Grammy Awards) recently inducted into the pretigious Hall of Fame. A steady, reliable cultural icon, Kelly consistently experiences success in the Antipodes, but his commecial viability never quite makes the enormous leap across the Pacific on to crumbling American shores, even after releasing eight full-length albums over the past decade or so. While this latest effort only legitimizes his legendary status, commercial success stateside is probably not in the cards for Kelly, though he continues to fertilize a dedicated international fan base with globetrotting tours and consistently original releases.
While initially his songs seem fairly innocuous, even (dare I say it?) unmemorable, Kelly is one of those artists who attacks from the inside. On Words and Numbers he sheds some of the chord-driven familiarities , this time favoring a style he describes as "built more from the groove up." Featuring two duets ("Lazy Bones" with Rebecca Barnard and "Melting" with Monique Brassard), Kelly effectively pays tribute to all his influences, ranging from Bob Dylan ("Gutless Wonder") to Edgar Allan Poe. "Nothing on My Mind" begins with, of all things, the accelerated drumbeat of Prince's "Sexy Motherfucker," over which Kelly narrates in a fuzzy, humidified voice digressing on a barroom scene (and still he somehow manages to pay tribute to Ernest Hemingway in the process). By far the most appealing track ("How to Make Gravy") tackles the emotional burden of homesickness during year-end holidays, and hops around on a surprisingly nimble beat (complete with wah-wah guitar tracks) considering the depressing subject matter. Always a thoughful lyricist, Kelly imbues strength through deeper meaning and visionary purpose. He sings as though he really has something to contribute to the world with Neil Finn-ish vocals, and his product really reflects his can do troubadour attitude. Given enough time, his lyrics and songs grip the heart, but strike without warning on the third or fourth listen.
