I must admit that I have never heard any Rory Block prior to this review. The liner notes claim that she is “Internationally acclaimed as today’s master of acoustic blues…” They go on to tempt the listener with “powerful versions of classic R&B with stunning a cappella gospel and stark, traditional ballads.” This set my expectations high.
Before I get to the music, let me say that I’m Every Woman is one of the most polished “blues” albums I have heard in a long time, the last being Guy Davis’ Call Down the Thunder. Davis, to his credit, built a wall around the music and kept the polish at bay by relegating it to the production. But Ms. Block’s effort is clean all-around – too clean. The production values, the musicianship – just about everything is stripped of any visceral punch and the listener is left with a mostly sterile, anodyne pastiche of styles. But similar criticism was leveled at an album I love, Emmylou Harris’ Wrecking Ball. My defense is that Wrecking Ball took folk, infused it with technology, and struck a mutually beneficial balance just as Jethro Tull did on their The Broadsword and the Beast album. I don’t know, maybe it’s just me. The blues that have graced my CD player lately are of Mississippi Fred McDowell as recorded by Alan Lomax in the late 1950’s on the first stereo field recording equipment.
I’m Every Woman is bookended by two short acoustic slide guitar pieces entitled “Guitar Ditty 1” and “Guitar Ditty 2”. When I heard the former, I was enraptured as I love acoustic slide and thought that it would foreshadow things to come. Alas, I was led at least partly astray with the next song. The title track follows and is the Ashford and Simpson tune. While I have nothing against juxtaposing acoustic blues and disco in theory, it doesn’t work for me here. The acoustic guitar that chugs along throughout is catchy but can’t be rescued from the horrid string synthesizers. Block’s take on Curtis Mayfield’s “Fool For You” is next. It doesn’t grate on the ears as the previous song but it isn’t an especial remake either.
The album takes a definite upward turn with the next two songs. Block teams with Gaye Adegbalola for an a cappella version of the traditional “Sea Lion Woman”. This is great stuff! The various vocal parts swirl and pirouette around one another in a truly beautiful dance. Another traditional song, “Ain’t No Grave Can Hold My Body Down”, continues the majesty of “Sea Lion Woman”. Recorded in an Episcopal Church in New York with Jordan Block Valdina, it bucks the trend of sterile sound so prevalent in the other songs. The natural echo of the church is evident and the voices resonate in harmonious wails.
With about a third of album gone by, I must admit to having been impressed by Block’s voice. It is crisp and she has a great range. Best of all, she rarely tries to infuse the songs with annoying vocal flourishes like Mariah Carey and she never tries to make a sound that is foreign to her style or unnatural.
Al Green’s “Tired of Being Alone” brings the proceedings back to the doldrums. It isn’t that it’s bad it’s just that it sounds so uninspired musically. It’s a great song dressed in the most subfusc arrangement. Block’s vocals are passionate and enjoyable, however. Much the same goes for “Love TKO”. Very bland and insipid music is empurpled with some soulful crooning.
The second half of the album kicks off in fine fashion with Block’s sparse arrangement of another traditional song, “Rock Island Line” featuring just hand claps, harmonica, and voice. The song leisurely lumbers along and this suits me just fine. There’s nothing slick or forced about the performance at all.
For better or for worse, Block penned only three songs for the album: the acoustic idylls that open and close the affair and “Talkin’ ‘Bout My Man”. It creaks along like John Bonham’s bass drum pedal on “Since I’ve Been Loving You”. This song bored me to tears. And if this wasn’t bad enough, Block teams up with blues muso Keb’ Mo’ on another tortuous Ashford and Simpson atrocity, “Ain’t Nothin’ Like the Real Thing”. That is all I am prepared to say about this song. But just as every cloud has a silver lining, (almost) every bad R&B cover on this album is followed by a devastating performance of a traditional piece. In this case, we are treated to a superb rendition of the murder ballad “Pretty Polly” with Kelly Joe Phelps. Block’s voice is exquisitely sanguine here and made me wish she had done an entire album of chanteys, ballads, and jodels. This version ranks as my second favorite behind that of Estil C. Ball.
And then the schizo nature of the album continues. The Reverend Herb Sheldon guests on “Hold On/Change is Coming”. It is here that some clichéd vocal mannerisms appear as does the boredom. The penultimate song on the album is “I Feel Like Breaking Up Somebody’s Home”. While it is a bit more raw than most of the songs on the album, it is too little too late. It also demonstrates the limitations of Block’s vocal style. She can sing very soulfully, very passionately and has a silky smooth voice. But when she sings “I feel like breaking up somebody’s home”, I don’t believe her. There nothing thrasonical or threatening about her singing – there’s no braggadocio in it. When I imagine Big Mama Thornton or Koko Taylor singing it, I feel trouble is a brewin’.
I’m Every Woman is a gallimaufry of styles. For me, the gospel and folks adaptations work really well. However, the disco and R&B are uninspired. The arrangements of these songs are strictly rote. Nothing is done to give the songs a twist, to make them interesting or Block’s own. The musicianship is, for the most part, very bland. Each swash of organ and every drum fill is by the numbers. And in 2002, there is no excuse for rhythm-centered songs to have drums that sound like they were recorded in a cardboard box. Personally, I do not recommend this album. Borrow it from the library and turn “Pretty Polly” up to 11. Despite my feelings for this CD, I do plan on going back into Ms. Block’s back catalog to see what gems I can unearth because she obviously has talent and an ear for good songs.
(This was originally published at The Green Man Review back in 2003-08.)
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