There's no justice is there? I mean, in an even slightly less imperfect world, CHRIS MILLS would be selling skiploads of records, being courted by The Man and enjoy hearing his regular hit singles blaring from the radio.
Of course, the cold light of reality is far harsher and while Ryan Adams remains the darling of the Alt.Country cognoscenti, Mills is still slugging it out in small venues and has formed his own Powerless Pop Recorders label to release his fourth album, "The Silver Line."
And, all injustices aside, it's brilliant. Already a contender for album of the year round these parts, "The Silver Line" is 37 minutes of the most sublime, emotion-laden pop you're liable to hear this or any other year.
Chris' previous album, 2000's mighty "Kiss It Goodbye" made it clear that his hard-bitten, but romantic tunesmithery was here to stay with often (literally) devastating songs like "Crooked Vein" and "Napkin In A Wine Glass," but here he's upped the ante: adding strings and horns to accentuate the killer melodies in his head.
Sensibly, Brian Deck's sympathetic and (not too) polished production has been retained, as have several key musicians from the "KIG" sessions, notably crack rhythm section Gerald Dowd and Ryan Hembrey, while the addition of oher Chicago session aces (under the name THE CITY THAT WORKS) like keyboard meister Dave Max Crawford and trumpeter Nate Walcott (check his ace blasts on the opening title tune and the great, ensuing "Suicide Note") ensures there are decisive contributions throughout.
"The Silver Line" is beautifully paced. Sometimes it rocks, like on the burnished, drum-heavy confessional title track; or on the spiky and erudite "Sleeptalking" - where The City That Works make like a pepped-up Attractions; or on "Floorboards" where they come on like The Replacements breathing imperious firewater fumes all over the place.
But "The Silver Line"'s pulse is equally strong when Mills slows it down a notch. The second-thoughts scenario "Dry Eye" is wry and regretful, while (at least lyrically) "Suicide Note" even makes my hero Peter Perrett spring to mind. Favourably, I might add.
|
If push comes to shove, mind, it's the ballads that are the album's heart. "Everything's Gonna Be Cool" features mellotron, Crawford's teardrop piano and Dowd's drums smashing in from the far distance, while the orchestrally-aligned "Diamond" has a great counterpoint lyric where Chris points out "The word on the street is that your sweet ass is totally fucked." Both are among Mills' finest achievements to date and - when allied to Chris' wracked, beat-up voice - register as classic tearjerkers without the slightest tinge of sentimentality.
And I've not even got to "Lullaby" or "I Could Not Stand To See You" yet. The sparsest acoustic numbers here, the first finds Chris duetting memorably with Nora O'Connor, while "I Could Not..." has been performed recently with just Fred Lonberg-Holm's cello supporting the acoustic guitar and here it gets a similar effective treatment. The real surprise, though, is the closing cover of Hawksley Workman's magnificent "Don't Be Crushed". Mills' version runs the orignal close, aided and abetted by strings, Fender Rhodes and Dowd's soft-suck trip-hop drums, wringing every drop of sadness and defiance out of the storyline.
Commercial returns may not reflect it, but regardless "The Silver Line" is a major album by a young singer/ songwriter moving away from the obvious Alt.Country stable and heading forwards in total control of his art. At present, Chris Mills is one of the very finest American singer/ songwriters. Accordingly, don't you dare miss this.
|
