Nancy Sinatra
Nancy Sinatra
(Attack/BMG, 2004)

If you know who Nancy Sinatra is, chances are you’re in one of three camps: The “Oh My God, she is so awesome!” camp; the “Jesus Christ, turn that crap off” camp; or the “She’s lost without Lee Hazelwood” camp. And that’s just fine, because Nancy, the talented, singing, dancing, swooning daughter of Ol’ Blue Eyes, is nothing if not the Queen Of Camp. And frankly (sorry, Frank), folks in all three camps have some valid points.

Though she’s probably still best known to the average music listener as the hot-pants-sportin’ singer of the swingin’ Sixties femme-anthem, “These Boots Were Made For Walkin’,” she’s actually contributed quite a few tasty little pop nuggets over the years. Her albums with producer Lee Hazelwood were spotty, but always turned out a gem or two, and her sporadic live performances are legendary. On the other hand, when Nancy is over the top, she’s WAY over the top, and if your idea of a good song doesn’t include silly, sappy lyrics, over-emoting vocals and ridiculous strings, well, you ain’t gonna dig a good portion of her catalog.

That being said, Sinatra’s latest, self-titled effort is, hands down, the best thing she’s done since her heyday with Hazelwood. Teaming up with producers AJ and Matt Azzarto and the inimitable Don Fleming, Sinatra shares the spotlight here with a passel of highly talented, modern singer/songwriters and musicians. It’s a great idea, and it works damn near every time—even despite the fact that, like Dusty Springfield’s revered Dusty In Memphis, most of these tunes are complete studio creations; the bands and musicians laying down tracks in one studio, Sinatra in another, and the producers splicing the results together. But like I said, when it works, it really works.

Opener “Burnin’ Down The Spark”—written by and performed with Giant Sand/Calexico members Joey Burns, John Convertino, and friends—is about as close to the original Hazelwood spirit as you’re gonna get—“Ring Of Fire”—like horns and high lonesome baritone guitar compete with fiery Latin rhythms and Sinatra’s note-perfect, melancholy voice to create a truly haunting soundscape. “Don’t Let Him Waste Your Time,” a duet with Pulp’s Jarvis Cocker, is a slinky, hypnotic little number that recalls early ’60s girlie pop like Leslie Gore or Little Eva, yet includes such modern-day lyrical jabs as “... and then some skinny bitch walks by in some hot pants/and he’s a-running out the door...”

Other highlights include “Momma’s Boy,” a deliciously dark romp through reverse-Oedipal insanity with Sonic Youth axeman Thurston Moore; “Let Me Kiss You,” a breezy, uplifting love song performed with (and written by) Smiths’ founder Morrissey; and the album’s final cut, the gorgeous cocktails-and-suicide ballad, “Two Shots Of Happy, One Shot Of Sad,” which comes oozing out of your speakers riding a smokey, post-club-closing groove (courtesy of a jazzed-out U2) that’ll either drive you to drink or to hit “replay.” Maybe both wouldn’t be such a bad idea. Tasty stuff from Ms. Sinatra and friends.

Joe Henry
Tiny Voices
(Anti-, 2004)

Singer/songwriter Joe Henry continues down the jazz-inflected path he began following a couple of years back with albums like Scar and Fuse—melding his scathing lyrical wit to flitting, airy keyboard and horn notes scattered like so much stardust over deep, throaty rhythms. I’d go so far as to say that, some of the subject matter (America’s ever-widening cultural and spiritual vacuum, mortality, morality, patriotism, revolution) aside, this album contains some of the sexiest music Henry’s released to date.

Along with his usual stellar cast of fellow musicians (Jay Bellerose on drums, Chris Bruce on guitar, Jennifer Condos on bass, Patrick Warren on keys, plus talented brass-men Don Byron and Ron Miles and special guests, including the late, great Greg Arreguin on guitar, Jim Keltner on drums, and Dave Palmer on keyboards), Henry runs through a veritable cornucopia of free-jazz, funk, rock, pop and torch-inflected aural mini-docu-dramas. Tiny Voices is a perfect title for this record, which is stocked to the tippy-top with the sort of characters Henry’s so adept at creating, capturing or conjuring, depending on his mood.

“This Afternoon” is an easy-flowing, snappy little ditty gliding on War-like horns, rolling drums and trippy word-play like, “An orange cup was thrown/From an upstairs room/A cherry bomb of giddy lust, I guess/From a bride and groom...” but then slips into its true meaning with, “I’ve spent every long summer/Just this way/Since my mother started making up their beds/And learning to look the other way/So what’s one more drunk businessman/Coming on to me in the shallow end?” Like I said, each song is like an IFC short; a stark snapshot of an individual or a moment trapped in time.

“Animal Skin” continues the steamy tone of the record, Henry crooning, “I’ll rise with your breath and fall back again/Cause you bring me close to my animal skin...” The title track is a bouncy, slightly discombobulated love ballad perfect for the apocalypse: “All manner of abandon/Is just the thing we need/Get ready for the country, boys/This town has gone to seed/The telephone line sagging/With word coming through/Put your head between your knees/I’m falling for you...” “Sold” and “Dirty Magazine” both feature a bit more guitar, but stay firmly rooted in that jazzy groove, the latter best described in one of its own lines: “...such a grim, romantic crew...”

“Flag” is a fitting epitaph to a doomed love as well as a terrifying metaphor for the state of the world today: “These days, they lord above me/Growing mean as they grow shorter/Like a flag on a closing border behind me...And I mistook your heart for thunder/And like a flag, hid behind and under you/Who could blame me...Laugh or bleed as you need to/Who of us doesn’t know already?/Every flag now flies like confetti...” All in all, Tiny Voices is a powerful, timely, and soul-edifying batch of modern jazz/rock/pop from a guy who’s always defied categorization and continues to reach new creative heights with every release. A must-have.

Other highly recommended new or recent releases: Tom Waits, Real Gone/William Shatner, Has Been/The Drive-By Truckers, The Dirty South/Patterson Hood, Killers And Stars/The Roach Brothers, Smashed Is Where It’s At/The Spanish Recordings: Basque Country Navarre, The Alan Lomax Collection. More to come!!

GIG OF THE WEEK

Don’t miss Anderson, Indiana’s own stump-preachin’, fire-and-brimstone-raisin’, musical missionaries, Gee As In Jesus, as they return to the 7th Street Entry for what’s become an annual holiday tradition around these parts. The various anointed cousins and brethren will deliver their usual, one-part snappy sermon, one-part home-brewed fervor, two-parts rock ’n’ roll gospel program this Saturday night, 12/18. Special guests include The Mighty Mofos, Diesel On The Rocks and the undeniably awesome Impaler. Don’t miss this one to save your soul, folks. $5, 8 p.m., 21+.

That’s it for this week, gang. Tune in again for more of the same. Until next time—make yer own damn news. ||

If you have local music news, gigs, CDs you’d like to see mentioned in this column, or you’d just like to share your favorite Dancing Outlaw story, send replies to: (temporary e-mail) jamescrouch_1@juno.com.