Post subject: Re: Cat Power - Sun ( September 4th)
Posted: Mon Aug 13, 2012 3:28 pm
Yeah Yeah Yeah
Joined: Thu Jul 14, 2005 12:23 am Posts: 4187
zeb wrote:
There's a lot to like about this album.
Me too...the first 4 songs are great. I like the iggy cameo, how his voice sound with chann´s voice is pretty nice. It´s really nice to see her doing a different type of record and still, its a classic Cat Power record.
Post subject: Re: Cat Power - Sun ( September 4th)
Posted: Wed Sep 05, 2012 5:08 pm
Yeah Yeah Yeah
Joined: Thu Jul 14, 2005 12:23 am Posts: 4187
im still suprised on these songs...they are very good, i didn´t quite saw this from her. I thought she would be back to some indie folk record instead of going this route. Also, the fact she did the record all by herself is impressive.
Post subject: Re: Cat Power - Sun ( September 4th)
Posted: Thu Sep 06, 2012 9:16 pm
Yeah Yeah Yeah
Joined: Wed Aug 25, 2010 6:37 am Posts: 3819
VinylGuy wrote:
There is a good interview in pitchfork with chan, i didn´t remembered her mental collapse in 2006...
Wasn't she one of those Fiona Apple types that was in a somewhat constant state of mental collapse? Like, if you bought tickets to see her, odds were about 50/50 that she'd end up getting scared of performing and just sit crying in the dressing room all night?
Post subject: Re: Cat Power - Sun ( September 4th)
Posted: Thu Sep 06, 2012 9:21 pm
Yeah Yeah Yeah
Joined: Thu Jul 14, 2005 12:23 am Posts: 4187
Kevin Davis wrote:
VinylGuy wrote:
There is a good interview in pitchfork with chan, i didn´t remembered her mental collapse in 2006...
Wasn't she one of those Fiona Apple types that was in a somewhat constant state of mental collapse? Like, if you bought tickets to see her, odds were about 50/50 that she'd end up getting scared of performing and just sit crying in the dressing room all night?
yeah but i thought she was ok in 2006 when she released the greatest.
Post subject: Re: Cat Power - Sun ( September 4th)
Posted: Mon Oct 22, 2012 6:57 pm
Yeah Yeah Yeah
Joined: Thu Jul 14, 2005 12:23 am Posts: 4187
Antiquiet´s review of her chicago show...anyone saw her on this tour?
Look into Chan Marshall’s eyes on stage and you see nothing. They are hollow and they are absent, and she is wholly and utterly away. The woman known to us as Cat Power can effortlessly smile an absent smile or stare directly at her audience as if she’s alert and tuned in, but all it adds up to is badly disguised showmanship. Just look into those eyes and you can see it all. Stage fright may be a factor, or even drink, but you just know that it’s something deeper – something broken from within.
“How are you?” a fan bellows to Marshall during her set at Kool Haus in Toronto on Saturday. “I’m feeling ewwy,” she replies with an awry smile, “but I have to do my job, I have to do my job, I have to do my job;” and each time those words are repeated, they seem all the more heartfelt. She isn’t hiding anything from her audience or herself. She is being honest: She’s there to do her job, happy or unhappy – it doesn’t matter.
And when those words are said with such candor, what is an audience member to do for this trembling, multi-talented creature, but merely stand back and cheer her on?
In fact, it all seems to be a strange kind of therapy for Marshall, who at first, strides on stage aloof, and sings along to her song, Cherokee, instead of actually singing it. She is backed by a tremendous group of musicians who cover her tracks seamlessly as if everything is under control, but something is missing. It all just feels so detached. She seems detached.
This is where the audience comes in and plays their role: They encourage her with applause, shelter her by howling “I love you”s, and murmur under their tongues to Marshall that you can do it. Like a cat, Marshall needs to be courted and won over. It’s not her choice though. She needs it.
But she’s still distant; seemingly more attentive to the joss stick she has brought on stage with her more than the venue full of people that have come to see her.
All of a sudden, a fan reaches out to her with a present – three sheets paper with notes scribbled onto each one – and everything changes.
Marshall saunters towards the fan as she submissively purrs to her soulful new track Manhattan. She grabs the pieces of paper, and without any hesitation, begins to read each note – singing the song as an afterthought. You see her smile, you see her blush, you see her mouth something pleasant to the thoughtful girl who just made her day, and then, as if by miracle, her eyes begin to glimmer. Her smile is no longer a showman’s smile. She’s starting to move more comfortably on stage now. She’s actually singing - and her voice is as strong and as beautiful as ever. The detachment dissipates, and the show finally begins – properly.
And what a show it is.
At one point during the show, Marshall is coated by white light. She stands still behind the microphone stand – a mere shadow, but never has she been as ever-present. Ethereal, she sings in Spanish, sensually waving her right arm and merely tapping at the bright and silvery atmosphere she’s crafting. It’s a cover of Pedro Infante’s Angelitos Negros, but she sings it like it’s her own song. There is life flowing through it, and the crowd no longer has to murmur muted encouragement. This is Marshall at her very best. She’s no longer purring. She’s crooning.
She follows this with a poignant rendition of the Greatest, stripped down to its very core. It is now her voice that is moving the song forward. It is focused, and somehow it is also courageous. What seemed like a “job” is now coming to her naturally, and audience is finally liberated from their wavering expectations. But it is Marshall that appears to be the freest of all; still tortured, but rehabilitated – for the time being at least.
In between songs, she shares some words with the audience, but she mostly just rambles and slurs her words, but it matters little. She doesn’t need to speak. She has songs – utterly personal songs – that speak for her and for her audience. As long as she could perform them as naturally as she was now and as long as she glistened as she did, all else mattered little.
By the last song, the wonderfully re-titled Ramblin’ (Wo)man, Marshall is almost jovial, tossing flowers and then shirts and then setlists at her audience, while also singing the memorable Jukebox track with impeccable heart and effort. Her eyes are no longer void and frightening, but present and receptive. She notices a nearby fan’s Charlie Chaplin t-shirt and asks for it. He immediately obliges, and in exchange, she gives him a backstage pass.
Hours previous, before Marshall had even made her entrance, Bob Dylan’s Shelter from the Storm had played over the venue speakers. The house lights were already off, and the audience was impatiently waiting for the songstress to walk on stage.
She does, not very long after, and by the end of the night, when her words are no longer slurred and she no longer seems nervous, she waves goodbye and smilingly tiptoes to the back as the band plays on. She has had a good night in Toronto.
But even as the newly rejuvenated Marshall walks off stage at the end of the night, Dylan’s song still lingers.
“Come in,” he sings on the classic track, “I’ll give you shelter from the storm.”
I wonder if the song opens every one of Marshall’s sets. It explains her hollow eyes at the onset of her shows, her redemptive shine halfway through, and the serene smile she walks off stage with. It explains it all. It is shelter that she needs, and it is shelter that each city gives to her. How could she trust us when she meets us, and how could she not when she leaves?
Post subject: Re: Cat Power - Sun ( September 4th)
Posted: Mon Oct 22, 2012 6:57 pm
Yeah Yeah Yeah
Joined: Thu Jul 14, 2005 12:23 am Posts: 4187
Antiquiet´s review of her chicago show...anyone saw her on this tour?
Look into Chan Marshall’s eyes on stage and you see nothing. They are hollow and they are absent, and she is wholly and utterly away. The woman known to us as Cat Power can effortlessly smile an absent smile or stare directly at her audience as if she’s alert and tuned in, but all it adds up to is badly disguised showmanship. Just look into those eyes and you can see it all. Stage fright may be a factor, or even drink, but you just know that it’s something deeper – something broken from within.
“How are you?” a fan bellows to Marshall during her set at Kool Haus in Toronto on Saturday. “I’m feeling ewwy,” she replies with an awry smile, “but I have to do my job, I have to do my job, I have to do my job;” and each time those words are repeated, they seem all the more heartfelt. She isn’t hiding anything from her audience or herself. She is being honest: She’s there to do her job, happy or unhappy – it doesn’t matter.
And when those words are said with such candor, what is an audience member to do for this trembling, multi-talented creature, but merely stand back and cheer her on?
In fact, it all seems to be a strange kind of therapy for Marshall, who at first, strides on stage aloof, and sings along to her song, Cherokee, instead of actually singing it. She is backed by a tremendous group of musicians who cover her tracks seamlessly as if everything is under control, but something is missing. It all just feels so detached. She seems detached.
This is where the audience comes in and plays their role: They encourage her with applause, shelter her by howling “I love you”s, and murmur under their tongues to Marshall that you can do it. Like a cat, Marshall needs to be courted and won over. It’s not her choice though. She needs it.
But she’s still distant; seemingly more attentive to the joss stick she has brought on stage with her more than the venue full of people that have come to see her.
All of a sudden, a fan reaches out to her with a present – three sheets paper with notes scribbled onto each one – and everything changes.
Marshall saunters towards the fan as she submissively purrs to her soulful new track Manhattan. She grabs the pieces of paper, and without any hesitation, begins to read each note – singing the song as an afterthought. You see her smile, you see her blush, you see her mouth something pleasant to the thoughtful girl who just made her day, and then, as if by miracle, her eyes begin to glimmer. Her smile is no longer a showman’s smile. She’s starting to move more comfortably on stage now. She’s actually singing - and her voice is as strong and as beautiful as ever. The detachment dissipates, and the show finally begins – properly.
And what a show it is.
At one point during the show, Marshall is coated by white light. She stands still behind the microphone stand – a mere shadow, but never has she been as ever-present. Ethereal, she sings in Spanish, sensually waving her right arm and merely tapping at the bright and silvery atmosphere she’s crafting. It’s a cover of Pedro Infante’s Angelitos Negros, but she sings it like it’s her own song. There is life flowing through it, and the crowd no longer has to murmur muted encouragement. This is Marshall at her very best. She’s no longer purring. She’s crooning.
She follows this with a poignant rendition of the Greatest, stripped down to its very core. It is now her voice that is moving the song forward. It is focused, and somehow it is also courageous. What seemed like a “job” is now coming to her naturally, and audience is finally liberated from their wavering expectations. But it is Marshall that appears to be the freest of all; still tortured, but rehabilitated – for the time being at least.
In between songs, she shares some words with the audience, but she mostly just rambles and slurs her words, but it matters little. She doesn’t need to speak. She has songs – utterly personal songs – that speak for her and for her audience. As long as she could perform them as naturally as she was now and as long as she glistened as she did, all else mattered little.
By the last song, the wonderfully re-titled Ramblin’ (Wo)man, Marshall is almost jovial, tossing flowers and then shirts and then setlists at her audience, while also singing the memorable Jukebox track with impeccable heart and effort. Her eyes are no longer void and frightening, but present and receptive. She notices a nearby fan’s Charlie Chaplin t-shirt and asks for it. He immediately obliges, and in exchange, she gives him a backstage pass.
Hours previous, before Marshall had even made her entrance, Bob Dylan’s Shelter from the Storm had played over the venue speakers. The house lights were already off, and the audience was impatiently waiting for the songstress to walk on stage.
She does, not very long after, and by the end of the night, when her words are no longer slurred and she no longer seems nervous, she waves goodbye and smilingly tiptoes to the back as the band plays on. She has had a good night in Toronto.
But even as the newly rejuvenated Marshall walks off stage at the end of the night, Dylan’s song still lingers.
“Come in,” he sings on the classic track, “I’ll give you shelter from the storm.”
I wonder if the song opens every one of Marshall’s sets. It explains her hollow eyes at the onset of her shows, her redemptive shine halfway through, and the serene smile she walks off stage with. It explains it all. It is shelter that she needs, and it is shelter that each city gives to her. How could she trust us when she meets us, and how could she not when she leaves?
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