Long known as half of the splendiferous singing team that comprises Chicago’s Freakwater, an act lauded as one of the most significant and fruitful names in alt-country, Catherine Irwin has also been gradually adding entries to her own fine if slim solo discography as the course of this new millennium has progressed. Little Heater, the second record released under her name, proves an exceptional study in her abilities as both a writer and singer, and it’s an absolute must not only for any partisan of Freakwater but for discerning Americana fans in general.
It’s sorta impossible to praise Catherine Irwin without also speaking highly of the group from whence she sprang, one of the few alt-country acts to not only survive beyond the release of a few fleeting albums, but to also manage through that period to never set a foot wrong. Anybody that’s yet to encounter their work should get up close and personal with Feels Like the Third Time, the group’s most celebrated and perhaps finest work (along with Irwin and co-leader Janet Beveridge Bean, they are rounded out by bassist David Gay, steel-guitarist Jon Spiegel, and a host of guests). At the very least they should sample that album’s “My Old Drunk Friend,” a jewel of a song that’s halfway between a lament and an ode, and naturally for a problematic yet irresistible figure.
But to get an idea of Freakwater’s lack of calculated reverence, please know they covered Black Sabbath’s “War Pigs” on the flipside of an early single. And not only did they cover it, they did right by it. To expand, the group’s depth of feeling, what some might call their “legitimacy,” was never linked to any bogus “just like the old days” shtick.
If it was always blatantly apparent that Freakwater was heavily shaped by the wounded-heart aspects of old-time, bluegrass, country, and even a tinge of folk, they also made records that were distinct from what shaped them. Irwin and Bean weren’t interested in making “purist” music, and for this reason they were a far more interesting continuation of their influences that any number of rote copyists.
Unsurprisingly, Irwin’s solo recordings share these qualities. But if 2002’s Cut Yourself a Switch registered as a loosely conjured collection of originals and covers, far more than tossed-off but also a very organic, almost leisurely record, then Little Heater is far more ambitious in both its production by Tara Jane ONeil and in the breadth of its songwriting.
“Mockingbird” opens the album, the tune stripped-down and direct, featuring Irwin’s assured vocalizing in superb counterpoint to that of guest Bonnie Prince Billy. The song also establishes the album’s standard for excellent, sharply understated guitar playing, presenting a tough, unfaltering strum that’s one of the LP’s distinguishing qualities.
By contrast, “Dusty Groove” flaunts Irwin’s strength as a lyricist while also showing off her by now unimpeachable vocal skill. Again, guitar leads the instrumentation, but with the assistance of some tasteful (in the best sense) pedal-steel and a low key yet very effective sting section. Thrill Jockey’s promo material mentions Countrypolitan-style production, but to my ear Little Heater is a bit more refined and noticeably less slick in delivery.
“Hoopskirt” begins as a showcase for Irwin and that ever-present strum, but with a few masterful grace notes thrown in along the way; beautiful backing vocals, just a touch of electric string bending, and some whispers of steel guitar.
As anyone familiar with Freakwater can attest, Irwin’s music exudes a melancholy that’s derived from old-time music and the inevitable heartbreak exhibited by the best tunes from the best years of the Nashville scene. Much of Little Heater’s “Sinner Saves a Saint” is of this inspiration, especially in how Irwin’s voice weaves with that of contributor/producer Tara Jan ONeil.
But what causes this peach of a song to really excel comes through how it diverts from that template, specifically via a refusal to settle into any mere retro/commercial framework. As made clear in its soaring, eclectic pedal-steel solo courtesy of Marc Orleans, the music on this record far exceeds any rote genre expectations.
And “We Must Also Love the Thieves” displays a root in the true gospel tradition, particularly in how its strongest immediate attribute lies in rich, almost brutally powerful vocal harmonies. And this is only amplified through Irwin and company’s preference for establishing and honing an elevated mood rather than indulging in any kind of instrumental flash. On this track it’s a gnawing spot of harmonica helping to deepen the song’s already captivating bedrock.
“To Break Your Heart” again features Bonnie Prince Billy, and it’s the first song on the album that could perhaps be described as eccentric, though that quality is in no way forced. Orleans’ steel work is at its loosest and yet most assertive, and if Oldham impresses (and he certainly does) there is never any doubt the song is fully Irwin’s show.
“Piss to Gin” is simultaneously the album’s most overt nod to old-timey ambiance via banjo and fiddle and also its largest associative gesture to some sort of lingering country-punk ideal. It should highly satisfy those that prefer their old-time descended stuff on the rougher, rawer, less polite side of the fence; more Dock Boggs and less Bela Fleck, y’know? And “Nightshade” quickly establishes itself in the album’s raw-nerved spare mode, only to add in some of that lush string section ache and a little more pedal action, lifting the song above the album’s already high standard.
“Flowers of Darkness” is maybe the LP’s strongest showcase for what Irwin can do with just a fine tune, her sterling voice and a minimum of instrumental accompaniment. On this track that would be guitar, Orleans’ steel and a hint of vocal harmony. That’s all it requires. “Save Our Ship” is the record’s briskest song, though that shouldn’t infer it offers a tangibly uptempo situation. It’s also the tune that I’d possibly put on a mix-CD for an Indigo Girls-loving Aunt. If that sounds like a putdown, well it most assuredly isn’t. And because it isn’t a knock should make it bluntly obvious just how fine an achievement “Save Our Ship” actually is.
As sort of an extension to the previous tune, “Pale Horse/Pale Rider” shows off Irwin’s coffeehouse folk chops; it’s the kind of song that would go down pretty fabulously betwixt “Goodnight Irene” and an well-chosen Elizabeth Cotten cover. But ONeil’s production transforms it into something much more, namely through the echo-laden gusts of string work that accents the tune’s progression. It’s almost like she got advice/assistance from Tony Conrad or something. Geez.
As the record begins winding down, “The Whole of the Law” gradually builds up as Little Heater’s largest instrumental full-band statement, with assertive percussion, guitar, banjo, and some fantastic string section passages. And at a little over six minutes it’s also the album’s longest song, though it in no way suffers for its durational ambition. In fact, its length feels essential to its success. “The Banks of the Ohio” wraps up the LP with a hauntingly beautiful piece featuring just vocals and guitar; it’s a murder ballad, and one of the best I’ve heard in a long time.
As of this writing, Catherine Irwin’s second solo disc is neck and neck with Laura Gibson’s La Grande for finest Americana release of 2012, female division. Not that it’s a competition or anything. And not that Irwin (or Gibson for that matter) need be restricted by gender. But if as strong a record as Gibson’s, Little Heater is also as distinct, illuminating the natural brilliance that’s made her such a valuable, if somewhat undersung talent over the last quarter century.
And I’d say something about hoping for increased prolificacy, but maybe in this case it’s best to not look a gift horse in the mouth. Irwin’s got more up her sleeve, and it’ll be unveiled in due time. Until then Little Heater will suffice.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
A
