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By Dennis Cook
There are plenty of lovely voices out there, but there's something undeniably special about Neko Case. The way the microphone strains to meet her lips as the summery warmth of her breath caresses the back of your neck can stop you in your tracks. It is an undeniably sensual sound, flecked with dark fractures, moving with liquid phrasing, immediate and immense. And it's never had more to work with than the smorgasbord of top-shelf songs on Fox Confessor.
A favorite of the alternative country scene since the late '90s, Case got a major recognition bump when seemingly every publication on the planet started heaping praise on the New Pornographers' 2005 release Twin Cinema. She's a natural fit with the classic pop purveyors, which also includes Carl Newman and Destroyer's Dan Bejar. As fine as she is singing the boys' tunes, her own work hits another level. While just as catchy, Case's originals have more curves and interesting hues. Musically they recall the sturdy swing of '60s Brill Building composers like Neil Diamond and Carole King. However, lyrically she both incorporates and transcends pop tropes. A yearning crooner like "That Teenage Feeling" is something Roy Orbison would have given his sunglasses for, but Case is much closer to poets like Gary Snyder or W.H. Auden on the title cut and "Dirty Knife."
There's music in her language choices, stories built by carefully chosen syllables that stir heart and mind in equal measures. The opening lines of "Hold On, Hold On" exemplify her gift for haunting shorthand ("The most tender place in my heart is for strangers. I know it's unkind by own blood is much too dangerous"). Her world is populated by animal spirits and girls with parking lot eyes - swollen images and broken branches tangled in a cool, steady stream.
Throughout, the playing is impeccable, provided by a sympathetic ensemble that includes Howe Gelb (Giant Sand), Calexico's Joey Burns and John Convertino, The Band's Garth Hudson and Case herself. The harmonies of Case and Kelly Hogan are especially ear-catching and probably the best blend of female voices in rock this year besides Jenny Lewis and the Watson Twins.
The spacious, layered production harks back to Owen Bradley's landmark collaborations with Patsy Cline. Rather than feeling retro, Case and co-producer Darryl Neudorf have crafted something pretty ageless. Each instrumental color and heart-rending bridge feels right. Every track flows nicely to the next, like the gospel uplift of "John Saw That Number" that breaks out of the heavy clouds of "Fox Confessor Brings The Flood." Every note is beautifully placed; every guest - a solid fit. At a lean 35 minutes, this disproves the quantity over quality aesthetics of the CD era. There's nothing that doesn't need to be here, and you're left wanting nothing.
It's so strangely satisfying that perhaps you'll be tempted, as I have been on many occasions, to hit play again as soon as it ends. Rare is the song cycle that's both apocalyptic and bedroom intimate. This one manages the huge range and only rewards further exploration with the revelation of more charms hiding in the curves and shadows.
JamBase | South Bay
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