Jolie Holland “The Living and the Dead” Review
Two years after the fantastic Springtime Can Kill You, Jolie Holland is back with a new album, The Living and the Dead, released through Anti records. Where Springtime saw Holland giving her warbling Alto carte blanche to wander it’s way through gorgeously crafted Blues and Dixieland Jazz, The Living finds her unique vocals a bit more restrained. Songs like “Mexico City” demonstrate a more rock-oriented approach, with more conventional drumbeats and a singing style that doesn’t maximize her unusual style of pronunciation as much as say, Springtime’s similarly titled “Mexican Blue.” It is, however, far from an orthodox “Country Rock” album. The twangy drawl is still there—just enough to be recognizable. Also, Holland’s strength as a songwriter has not deserted her—she continues to explore themes of heartbreak, wandering, and dreams, through metaphor (You Painted Yourself In) as well as the straightforward (Sweet Loving Man).
While the past two years don’t seem to have taken away any of Holland’s blues, the record isn’t all misery and hardship. Like the great Blues artists, Holland’s pathos is nuanced, affecting a rueful smile just as often as tears. In “Palmyra” Holland reflects upon the death of a loved one, promising to “dance at your funeral if you dance at mine.” “[Waking] up in a pit of despair on your bed,” she gamely puts her lipstick back on and steels herself to face the “cold hard world,” even as the music crescendos into an optimistic rock beat. At her happiest (a cover of the folk standard “Enjoy Yourself”) even while giggling like a schoolgirl Holland still always maintains that hint of melancholy, a knowing farsightedness that seems to see the hardship down the road even as it takes in the pleasures of today.
It’s this lyrical balance that sets Holland apart from many songwriters, and also puts her in a class with a few other luminaries like Jim White and M. Ward, both of whom make guest appearances on the album. In this respect The Living and the Dead seems less individualistic than previous efforts, not just because more people helped create it, but because the sound is bigger and more sweeping than her other records. Where Springtime was somewhat introverted, The Living puts it all out there, shouting the feelings rather than meditating on them. While by definition this places Holland in louder, more traditional song structures, the originality of her eerie poetry continues to shine through. And I am certain it always will so long as Holland remains a spiritual wanderlust. One day, god forbid, her rambling soul will finally come to rest. Until then, she continues to relate the beauty and sadness of the world as one squarely in it, an artist who lives just as much as she observes.
