Kristin Hersh
Sky Motel
[Rykodisc]
Rating: 8.2
Former Throwing Muses frontwoman and Appalachian lullaby- singing mom
is back with her third solo album. But just because she's calmer now
than she was during her days with Throwing Muses, don't assume Sky
Motel is a washed- out affair. Hersh's demons may have been vanquished,
but her lyrical acuity can still pierce and unsettle. Nowadays, it's
just not so strident.
Hersh revisits Throwing Muses territory by putting together a band for
Sky Motel. And while I shamefully pine for her to pull off another
stunning Real Ramona, I really have nothing to complain about here.
Hersh sounds comfortable and relaxed, and the music reflects her even
keel. Producer Trina Shoemaker has kept the music subdued and given space
for Hersh's lyrics to spread out their beguiling wings. The songs have a
bizarre glamour to them. Hersh beckons us into her seemingly placid world,
only to whisper sweetly in our ears that all is not well here. But it's too
difficult to heed a warning whispered so dearly.
Thus "White Trash Moon" warns us not to stare at the neighbor's hair or
at their underwear; the freaks live next door to Hersh these days,
rather than within her. During "A Cleaner Light," Hersh again warns us to
"keep away from the freaks on the fringe/ They only talk to you because
you give them a good excuse to cry." These songs not only advise us, but
they also remind Hersh not to let go of the handrail.
On Sky Motel's standout track, "Caffeine," Hersh responds to the
barking of her black dog of manic depression. She sings, "The best of us
puking/ The rest of us not doing so well." She wishes that "we were lonely/
We were boring." These are her bipolar voices siren- calling again. Hersh
resists by not acting upon their persuasions; she acknowledges they'll
always be a part of her, and in a line of truly moving pathos, she sums
up her situation: "You're driving and I'm your backseat shadow."
However, the record's single, "Echo," affirms her strength, (albeit in
typically oxymoronic Hersh style). Amid Brazilia- styled lounge rhythms,
Hersh proclaims that she craves "the very loudest sound/ I'm chasing
everybody/ I'm shaking everybody down/I'm loving everybody." This exhilaration
is matched on "Costa Rica" when she coos, "I caught us kissing on a plane in
California/ It wasn't tame, but just the same/ I would love a better
drug/ You lucky jerk." It's as though she used to see stability as a
hallucinogen, but now, she's become resilient to the phantasmagoria of
reality and aspires to try for the high that the non- manic world seeks.
Sky Motel is a powerful, graceful album of quiet victory, then.
Hersh no longer considers herself aberrant. This newly- harnessed stability
doesn't mean that Hersh doesn't perceive the weirdos and the crazies; it
means that now she can start to comment on other people's wayward behavior
rather than making uncontrolled autobiographies of her own manias.
-Paul Cooper