Cat Power
Jukebox
Matador Records
By Mike Randall
Many a singers have attained incredible careers interpreting other people’s songs. Hell, Elvis Presley rarely touched a pen and Frank Sinatra never scribbled even a single lyric. Chan Marshall, under the guise of Cat Power, is following the lead of many of her rock and soul idols from the ‘60s and ‘70s in taking the songwriting work of others and making those tunes her own. A notable difference is that other than a few exceptions, those artists were performing songs mostly unknown to the public. On Jukebox, Cat Power tackles some of the most famous tracks by some of the architects of American music.
Marshall proves she’s a fearless singer who can inflect her own emotion into songs most would be afraid to go near. There’s an overarching theme of being down and out, struggling through loss but finding the resolve to carry on. Her rendition of “New York” is far sleepier and more soulful than Sinatra’s. It sounds less like a triumphant celebration of The City That Never Sleeps than a tale of a woman scorned by its unforgiving tenacity. On her version of The Highwaymen’s “Silver Stallion,” when she sings “I’m gonna steal a silver stallion…We’re gonna ride,” you get the impression she’s standing toe-to-toe with the horse, stroking its mane in deviance. It’s Billie Holiday’s “Don’t Explain” that has to be Jukebox’s stand out. It’s so restrained, so vexing, you can feel the pain and anger seeping from her mouth.
If there’s any sort of consistency to the artists Cat Power has covered through the years, it’s an admiration for Bob Dylan. Having previously recreated “Paths of Victory” and “Stuck Inside of Mobile With the Memphis Blues Again,” she is no stranger to The Bard’s repository. This time out, it’s “I Believe in You,” handled like a stripped-down version of a Stones tune, finding Marshall’s voice fighting hard, singing, “I know I’m gonna make it through…I’m a thousand miles from home but I don’t feel alone.” It gets real interesting on Marshall’s own “Song to Bobby,” a gentle, acoustic-based song seemingly recalling her life-long crush on Dylan and appreciation of his work.
Despite Marshall’s dusty voice at center-stage, this is by no means a one-woman show. Her band, featuring members from the Dirty Three and Jon Spencer Blues Explosion, provides the dark, haunting support needed for these songs to soar. Marshall lifts George Jackson’s “Aretha, Sing One For Me,” but it’s the band’s Memphis-like groove that propels Cat Power like a modern-day Booker T and the MG’s. They add a swampy, bluesy stomp to Jessie Mae Hemphill’s “Lord, Help the Poor and Needy” while letting Marshall’s near-whisper detonate by exhibiting an exorbitant amount of control on Janis Joplin’s “Woman Left Lonely” and Joni Mitchell’s “Blue,” which gently says goodnight as the record’s finale.
Despite Jukebox being her second near-entire collection of other people’s songs, Cat Power isn’t just a covers artist. She’s written more than her fair share of excellent music (“Metal Heart” sits alongside Jukebox’s gems nicely) and released albums comprised of all her own stuff. But she may have found a niche that has vanished and seems to only exist (albeit quite poorly) in mainstream music today. There’s a terrific nostalgic aura that goes along with hearing these songs reinvented by someone more than capable of commanding them, as opposed to watering down karaoke versions of the original. Many of the most well known performers on Jukebox didn’t actually pen the songs they’re remembered for, but no one seems to mind. Given the power of her delivery and the delicacy in which the band executes, I’d be willing to bet Bob Dylan or Joni Mitchell doesn’t mind Cat Power doing their work either.
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