A Diction Addiction

Since a friend recommended him, I've been listening to Citizen Cope's album, The Clarence Greenwood Recordings, a shitty title if I may say so.  I get turned off easily by titles, and I thought for some reason this would be a country album.  Hold up: I'm not one of the weenies that say, "I like any music except country," I simply wasn't in a country phase at the moment.  I needed something gritty and true and organic.  And I didn't know this was exactly what I wanted.  

Keenly aware that I am a fool for marketing and my opinion can be swayed on a dime, I tried to avoid reviews, and simply listen to the album.  This will be an uneducated look at the work of Citizen Cope.  I don't know anything about this guy, but I have made up a story in my mind.  Here goes. 

Clarence Greenwood was probably born in a town much like my college town.  Dusty, undereducated, access to crystal meth, three mega Wal-Marts.  His rural poetry depicts savvy street hustlers ("Bullet and a Target"), crazy vagrants defending street art ("Pablo Picasso"), and an emergency car ride to the delivery room ("Son's Gonna Rise").  Between the chaotic themes sit the sweet "Hurricane Waters," and the heartbreaking "Sideways," a perfect unrequited love ballad.  

Upon first listen, I was only drawn to a couple of songs, but I let a couple more in, then a couple more, and suddenly the entire album showed itself to soar along a beautifully crafted arc of emotion.  For a girl who is fanatical about pronunciation, I was initially annoyed by Citizen Cope's rhymes.  Pablo Picasso's "Mr. Officer, if you come to take her;  Then that means one of us gonna end up in a stretcher," is a particularly slanty example, but what female wouldn't love for her man to defend her so fervently?  His consistently mush-mouthed words are what I consider less an artistic expression, and more an honest, unaffected interpretation of his world. 

Beside the words, the music is undeniably groovy.  Each song has it's own sexy, hip-swinging undulation.  The simplicity in each arrangement is what's impressive.  This CD doesn't need to be loud or complicated.  Citizen Cope injects a thin piano riff, hands clapping, or a persistent high hat, and each song becomes infectious.  There's nothing new here.  Acoustic guitar, drums, Hammond organ.  It's the way he puts it all together.  

After getting to know his voice really well (I listened to this album non stop for about four weeks--par for the course with my musical obsessions), I was thrilled to hear him in the preview for the new Robert DeNiro movie, "What Just Happened?".  "Brother Lee" is my favorite song off his new album, Every Waking Moment.  I don't know this album as well, yet, but give me a few more weeks.