REVIEW: Julie Ritter, songs of love and empire (Luxstar)
- Paul Andersen
Mary's Danish was one of the most underrated, most talented bands ever to grace the Los Angeles music scene. They were verged on the big things that everyone predicted for them, only to have the proverbial rug pulled out from under them by an unscrupulous record label. They eventually splintered up, disillusioned, tired, with members going various ways, some to other bands, some to real estate lives in suburbia.
Julie Ritter co-founded the band with kindred spirit Gretchen Seager, and the two vocalists forged a give-and-take style that still sounds better than 99 per cent of the bands out there today. But out of the ashes sometimes phoenixes arise, as this album verifies. Quite simply, Ritter has crafted a set piece that is stunning from the rave-up opening chords of "Bed" to the bell-ringing close of "And What Were Roses," with all facets of emotion and textures caught within the grooves echoing ever so forcefully. Even when she drops to a whisper, the gale force is ever at hand, threatening to burst forth like a biblical storm.
Ritter's voice is not one of operatic range, and she has a tendency to modulate her notes in a yelp-like style, but it is signature sound so personal and so full of the depths that it absolutely grabs you by the ears and makes you notice it. Stylistically, the songs run the gamut from jump-up ravers to blue-tinged ballads to a mollish version of the only cover here, Lennon/McCartney's "Cry Baby Cry," that uses a noirish trumpet to set a Marlowe-like mood that would sound right at home on the jukebox down at your corner dive.
As a music writer, listening time is always at a premium, but when I'm relaxing and listening for myself, this is the first disc I grab. A tour de force, well worth finding (try Amazon, or her own site, http://www.julieritter.com ).
