Quiet Storm
British singer expertly merges folk and jazz traditions
By Michael McCall
FEBRUARY 14, 2000:
English folk music and American jazz are about as different as musical
idioms can get. One depends on strict ideas about song structure and
adheres to traditions passed down for generations; the other, by
definition, is a freewheeling, improvised form that leaves plenty of room
for individual expression.
If these two genres share anything, it's a mutual affection for good
tunes that originate not in the present-day, but in some past era. Of
course, in English traditional music, the songs are often much, much older
yet stick fairly closely to the originals. Whether they're professing
undying love or retelling the tale of a shipwreck, the great English folk
tunes have been passed through the decades and the centuries with
reverential care, as if maintaining an important historic document.
Jazz, meanwhile, is all about rearranging tunes to fit an artist's
personality or a band's strengths. Compositions provide a melody or a chord
structure for an instrumentalist or a band to return to after they've gone
off to establish their individuality.
That said, June Tabor's new A Quiet Eye album is remarkable in
part because of the way she merges these two distinctly divergent musical
camps. On her latest record, the veteran English folksinger teams up with
an 11-piece jazz band, the London-based Creative Jazz Orchestra. The result
is a stunning collection of English and American songs that underscores the
strengths of both genres.
Because Tabor started out as an a cappella singer--the most traditional
of all approaches to folk music--it may seem like heresy that she's now
fronting an avant-garde brass section and interpreting sentimental Broadway
fare like Sammy Fain's "I'll Be Seeing You." In truth, though, Tabor has
matured much like a painter or a serious actor, taking on new challenges
while staying true to a certain inner vision. Her love for emotionally
stirring lyrics has remained steadfast, but she's grown as an interpreter,
acquiring new vocal inflections and musical textures to help her get across
the underlying feeling of a song.
Over the years, Tabor has demonstrated her musical adventurousness while
staying true to her roots. She has collaborated with fellow folksinger
Maddy Prior, with tradition-based bands like Steeleye Span and the Oyster
Band, and with everyone from the Velvet Underground to the Pogues to Elvis
Costello (who originally wrote "All This Useless Beauty" for Tabor). In the
'90s, she's moved beyond acoustic music to create an ambitious chamber-folk
sound that merges traditional songs with the expansive musical
possibilities of jazz and cabaret music.
Tabor started exploring this territory on 1992's Angel Tiger and
on 1997's Aleyn. But it's with the new A Quiet Eye that she
truly puts it all together. To American rock fans, her music may sound
reminiscent of Marianne Faithfull, but Tabor doesn't convey the melancholy
burnout of a romantic victim. She burns with the power of a fiercely
impassioned, regally self-confident crusader. Even on heartbreaking songs,
she's not asking you to share her pain; instead, she's cursing betrayal or
seeking to stir people from their complacency.
Her arrangements bask in the dark amber glow of a grand piano, the
doleful whisper of a viola, moody washes of reeds, and sharp blasts of
brass. The music serves as a dramatic backdrop to her smoky alto, which
seethes with anger or passion, depending on the subject.
As for the material, it ranges from rousing traditional tunes like "I
Will Put My Ship in Order" and "It's a Long Way to Tipperary" to the tender
ache of Richard Thompson's "Waltzing's for Dreamers." The album's highlight
is Tabor's torrid take on "A Place Called England," a song that's both a
patriotic anthem and a scathing indictment of capitalism and modern life.
The song begins with her exploring what she loves about her homeland,
but mostly she sees meadows and rivers buried in the sooty wasteland ruled
by industrialists "who only think that England's a place to park their
car." Still, she sees hope in the marigolds that struggle to grow along
railroad tracks, and before long she's rousing famed English warrior kings
of lore, encouraging them to mount horses and draw swords, to give this
unique sliver of earth back to those who appreciate its natural beauty.
Flush with unrestrained righteousness, she crows, "For England is not flag
or Empire, it is not money and it is not blood. It's limestone gorge and
granite fell, it's Wealden clay and Severn mud. It's blackbird singing from
the may tree...and English earth beneath your nails!"
It's a glorious musical moment, and a rare one in today's
commerce-driven music business. It's also only one of many reasons--some
brave, most of them beautiful--that Tabor's album needs to be heard and
celebrated by listeners of all kinds.

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