Tape

Album review

Patty Griffin has said she was inspired to comb through her musical cast offs after coming across an online compilation of her rarities and deep cuts and deciding she could assemble a better collection. Indeed, Tape is something of a marvel, and Griffin herself knows why. "The sound quality on the majority of things on Tape is pretty low, but the performances are what really matter to me. My home recordings are almost always my favorite recordings, as far as capturing a fresh, direct feeling," she's said. "The shy introvert's dilemma . . . I've always had a hard time creating that same feeling in a studio full of people whose talent is in sound quality. These songs have a feel you can only get when you're by yourself at three o'clock in the morning." It's hard to fathom how a lot of these songs never made it to the studio, like opener "Get Lucky," a rollicking jangle that puts Griffin's vocal power up front. There's nothing half-baked about this demo, nor the fluttering, Joni Mitchell-esque folk of "One Day We Could" or "Strip of Light"—classic mountain music with an insistent guitar that never takes it easy. Piano ballad "Sundown" is a soundtrack cut waiting for a movie: Its slightly heartbroken melody and tearjerker lyrics ("I guess I stopped searching for you in the dark / My old friend, this is what they call the end/ This is where the rainbow ends across the sky") prove that Griffin's remainders have more effortlessly devastating emotion than many artists' best output. Tender "Forever Shall Be" has already been used in Morning, one of the saddest movies of this century, about a couple coping with the grief of losing their child; the track is almost like a lullaby, Griffin's voice like a balm: "Go to sleep/ Dream of the golden days/ And let time carry us away." She's the songwriter's songwriter, having been covered by everyone from Linda Rondstadt and Emmylou Harris to The Chicks and Neneh Cherry; you can imagine artists wanting to have a go at songs like the sweetly shuffling "Little Yellow House" or country-folk "Kiss of a Man." But no one could ever match the blushing chemistry between Griffin and Robert Plant on bluesy "Don't Mind," recorded not long after they met (the two were in a relationship for several years and toured together in Band of Joy). "Your lips say, 'Who's gonna kiss me?'" Griffin sings—not coos or purrs or anything else that suggests submissiveness—with a completely earthbound sultriness. Plant sounds in top form, milking it with his unmistakable mmmms, but this is completely Griffin's show. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz