Have any of you listened to that "Rockferry" CD by Duffy yet? Yeah, hmm...I bought it when I was at Border's Books and Music the other day, at my sister's urging. Unfortunately, it wasn't until after I listened to it that I remembered that my sister and I have very different urges, musically speaking.
While Duffy's tunes and singing are absolutely catchy, solid, and charming, I have to borrow a line from the author, Gertrude Stein, who, when referring to the town of Oakland where she grew up, famously declared, "There's no THERE there." I guess what I mean to say is, if you're going to claim you're writing and singing from a personal perspective by using the pronoun "I", well then, you better be "you". Having something to say in your uniquely own voice helps.
Frankly, I suspect I dismiss Duffy's "Rockferry" for the exact opposite reason I embrace Amy Winehouse's "Back to Black". Both being talented and British, these two young women have been compared ad nauseum in the press. But, really, there is no comparison. The drugs and the subsequent spectacle surrounding Winehouse and her fragile tattooed frame are the least of which that make her so interestingly listenable. While both Duffy and Winehouse take to the retro runway in terms of production, borrowing heavily from the dark mascara-ed, beehived ghosts of the 60's sound and style, lyrically speaking, Winehouse's perception of the world (and her love troubles in it) is spun as a yarn that has a distinctly new millennium tone and timbre. In other words, she is relevant and believable as an artist because of how she says what she says and means it. She is a throwback, yes, but one who will throwdown if you bleep with her or her man. Basically, on her person, both the mascara in the eyes and the beehive on the head sting like a sonuvabitch.
As it turns out, Winehouse's sound, steeped in the past, still manages to define itself as unapologetically free to play in the present. Her words, unlike those of Duffy and so many others, do not feel borrowed, or stilted, or like they are trying too hard to sort of sound like something that should be true. No, hers feel owned and lived in, pliable, and sincere. And it isn't the drugs. And it isn't the tattoos. And it isn't the chaos. It's her. That poor wreck of a girl with the big bad talent that begat the big bad fame that begat the big bad addiction. While she may not be the most reliable employee for what she does, she seems to be the one who is best suited to do it. I suppose what it comes down to is this: There's something THERE there.
I just don't know, at this point, how long the THERE there will be here.
While Duffy's tunes and singing are absolutely catchy, solid, and charming, I have to borrow a line from the author, Gertrude Stein, who, when referring to the town of Oakland where she grew up, famously declared, "There's no THERE there." I guess what I mean to say is, if you're going to claim you're writing and singing from a personal perspective by using the pronoun "I", well then, you better be "you". Having something to say in your uniquely own voice helps.
Frankly, I suspect I dismiss Duffy's "Rockferry" for the exact opposite reason I embrace Amy Winehouse's "Back to Black". Both being talented and British, these two young women have been compared ad nauseum in the press. But, really, there is no comparison. The drugs and the subsequent spectacle surrounding Winehouse and her fragile tattooed frame are the least of which that make her so interestingly listenable. While both Duffy and Winehouse take to the retro runway in terms of production, borrowing heavily from the dark mascara-ed, beehived ghosts of the 60's sound and style, lyrically speaking, Winehouse's perception of the world (and her love troubles in it) is spun as a yarn that has a distinctly new millennium tone and timbre. In other words, she is relevant and believable as an artist because of how she says what she says and means it. She is a throwback, yes, but one who will throwdown if you bleep with her or her man. Basically, on her person, both the mascara in the eyes and the beehive on the head sting like a sonuvabitch.
As it turns out, Winehouse's sound, steeped in the past, still manages to define itself as unapologetically free to play in the present. Her words, unlike those of Duffy and so many others, do not feel borrowed, or stilted, or like they are trying too hard to sort of sound like something that should be true. No, hers feel owned and lived in, pliable, and sincere. And it isn't the drugs. And it isn't the tattoos. And it isn't the chaos. It's her. That poor wreck of a girl with the big bad talent that begat the big bad fame that begat the big bad addiction. While she may not be the most reliable employee for what she does, she seems to be the one who is best suited to do it. I suppose what it comes down to is this: There's something THERE there.
I just don't know, at this point, how long the THERE there will be here.
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