Robinella and the CC String Band (CD)
Sound: A- Music: A
Sometimes,
no matter how good the music may be, you somehow cannot bring yourself to write
about it. The CD sits there atop a pile
of books, magazines, and, of course, other CDs.
You’ve listened to it at least twenty times, probably more. Every time you enjoy it. The woman has a full and lovely voice; clear
with a hint of sultriness. She sings and
transports you to a small, smoky club somewhere in the Texas hinterlands. You’re drunk from several shots of whiskey,
and that kind floatiness that alcohol bequeaths to the brain has just lifted
you a few centimeters from off the barstool.
The band is solid. The arrangements
are quiet, not at all showy, and perfectly support the singer. Then there’s the guitarist who seems to have
come to the instrument via both Wes Montgomery and James Burton; his playing at
once jazzy and reminiscent of your favorite Elvis records.
This, you
think, is a very good album. But each
time you go to write about it: Nothing.
OK, maybe
that wasn’t you per se. In fact, maybe
it was just me. And, here I am once
again, sitting here attempting to write about this very fine album, and I’m
lost. It’s actually pretty easy to bang
out a page and a half filled with gushing superlatives. Just use words like Great, and Hot, and Tight
to describe the playing. Compare the
singer to any number of wonderful vocalists to get your point across that yes
indeed this woman, Robinella Contreras, is just as good. I could probably draw a comparison between
either Ella Fitzgerald or Kitty Wells and you would have a pretty good idea
what Contreras sounds like. The
arrangements are built of upright bass, fiddle, mandolin, and yes that
wonderful syncretic electric guitar.
Again, I think once you see an instrument line-up like this you pretty
much know what the album will sound like.
Occasionally, you encounter a band like The Decemberists who use the
same instrumentation but have the lovely knack for making it sound completely
new and different, but for the most part you can be assured of a pretty Trad
record.
So there
it is; that’s the record. Now you know
what Robinella and the CC Stringband is
like and you know that it’s very good.
But do
you really know anything about the experience of listening to the album? Does my experience of the album, and my
inability to produce a cogent review, in the long run, mean anything to a
prospective buyer of the album? It’s
probably that line of self-questioning that has hindered my writing about the
album sooner. True, but it was also how
I think about reviewing itself that tripped me up here. Allow me to explain.
Reading
record reviews is pretty boring stuff.
For the most part I think we all skip to the last couple of sentences of
record reviews to see what the final verdict is and that’s all we care
about. Maybe we take the time to skim
the body of the review to get the gist of where the reviewer is coming from, to
glean a few details about the whys and wherefores of the reviewer’s positive or
negative conclusion. Then we either
take his/her advice and buy or do not buy the record in question. Reviews are little more than guides to
possible purchases. What they usually
are not are ruminations on the experience of listening to albums. They’re all about the financial transaction,
“Buy this!” “Don’t buy this!”, and so very rarely about the experience of being
alone on a damp Summer night with nothing to do and no one to be with so put on
an album and lose yourself in the sound and let the sound move around inside
you bumping into squishy emotions and memories thought safely locked away.
And
that’s what happened. Whenever I put
this album on the music entered me and wandered the hallways and dark rooms,
the endless baroque architecture of the heart, and had a peek at
everything. I think when we are alone
this is why we turn to our music. Being
alone, no matter what we may tell ourselves, is not our natural state. We require communion with other souls, and in
their absence we pull a record from its sleeve, or drop a CD into the
carousel. And we let the music in deeper
than we usually allow our closest friends and lovers.
The first
time I attempted to write about Robinella
and the CC Stringband I had just come home from a very long and trying
evening. A very close friend had just
received her PhD and I was on the bus after having just witnessed her hooding
ceremony. I knew she would soon be
leaving town for a job at an out of state university and I was feeling happy
for her and the accomplishment of completing her program and the promising path
that lay ahead of her. But I couldn’t
help feeling very sad, too. My good
friend, my pal of countless nights of dinners and TV shows, my dear confidante
who held my hand through some particularly trying emotional times in the recent
past, was leaving and, god, I was going to miss her so much.
I got
home after several misadventures not worth getting into and in my empty house
with a drink in hand and the ceremony fresh in mind and all that would soon be
coming creeping around behind my eyes I listened to the first song on this
album, “Man Over”,
Man over
And lost forever
Man over
And I think he’s
died
No need to throw
The life preserver
He’s already
drowned
Himself inside
And it
cut a hole in me and climbed inside and stayed there, resting against the
emotions of the evening. Now every time
I put the album on the same thing happens and I’m lost thinking about my friend
leaving and about the life I’ll have when she’s no longer in it everyday.
So I
guess that’s what I want to say about Robinella
and the CC Stringband. It’s the kind
of record that a listener can forge a deep connection to, relating one’s own
heart to the timbre of Contreras voice, or allowing one’s memories to be
exposed by the soulful guitar-work. It’s
not a flashy record, and sadly these days that means it won’t get the attention
it deserves. But for the people who
discover this album, I truly believe, a bond will form with the music and on
those quiet lonely nights when another voice is required to fill the emptiness
of rooms this album will be the one upon which a needle is dropped, or the
humming carousel is spun to play.
- Kristofer Collins
