As an occasional writer myself, I am aware that inspiration is difficult to define, and hard to grasp. One minute it’s there, and you feel unstoppable, and suddenly it’s gone, without so much as a peck on the cheek to say goodbye. And who knows when it will return. And on two occasions I’ve watched Rickie Lee Jones perform, I’ve even witnessed that inspiration come and go during the course of a show. But for now, at least, it has returned. You can hear it in the music, her lyrics, and her enthusiasm for a new life in New Orleans.
The Other Side Of Desire is her first album of new material since The Evening Of My Best Day back in 2003. That album was partly inspired by the contested election of George W. Bush, but Desire is altogether more personal. The starting point was her decision, at the age of 58, to relocate from Los Angeles to New Orleans, the city in which she composed part of her masterpiece, Pirates, back in 1981. “The move was a catalyst for a better feeling about life,” she revealed, “which in turn made room to write.” But after making that relocation, the influence of the city itself began to feed into the music. “The city is giving to me, or I am scooping from it, musically, culturally,” she told NPR. “Not only all the kinds of music that came from here, the '60s girl group sounds and the blues singers, the legends like Fats Domino or the sitting-on-the-porch Cajun voices, so clear and piping, haunting, innocent of vibrato and twisting every last affectation out of the French, or the Killer and his driving manic white man sound…”
The feel of the city also seeps into the music courtesy of her choice of producer. British producer John Porter made his name producing Roxy Music, but is now known as a blues producer, and moved to New Orleans a few years back. He was helped by Mark Howard, who worked as a partner with Daniel Lanois for many years, helping to shape classic New Orleans albums like Yellow Moon (Neville Brothers) and Oh Mercy (Bob Dylan).
That distinctive sound can be heard on the opening track, Jimmy Choo, with its shimmering guitar, while Jones paints a sympathetic portrait of a woman going through a tough time, suggesting we can leave their past behind us. Valtz De Mon Pere is something of a departure from a musical perspective - a slow Cajun country waltz that features the Lost Bayou Ramblers’ Louis Michot on fiddle and background vocals. The lyrics were apparently inspired by a meeting with Michot’s family, and describe how it’s possible for love within a family to transcend generations. J’ai Connais Pas is pure Fats Domino, and opens with the timeless Jones lyric,
“I know you come here to this bar, cos no-one here knows who you are,
You watch the band sing tra-la-la, you wear your Eau J’ai Connais Pas”
Blinded By the Hunt and Feet On The Ground are both steeped in 1970s soul. Her neighbour kept playing classic soul music during the making of the album, and from a vocal perspective, she has admitted that the influence of Al Green has become more profound with age. The former features Jones on organ, which is a first, and singing in a higher key than normal to great effect.
Christmas In New Orleans provides the album’s only real misstep, the melody rather too close to Fairytale Of New York for comfort, but the dream-like Infinity is superb, the drums capturing the sound of a train making its way across the country, whilst I Wasn’t There sees Jones return to her little-girl-lost persona, the child-like backing vocals underpinned by a beautiful string arrangement. The album closes with the slightly spooky song, A Spider In The Circus Of The Falling Star. Amid the haunting, multi-tracked vocals, the eerie laughter and sousaphone, her voice suddenly soars, a reminder that Rickie Lee Jones still occupies a place of her own, even in New Orleans.
In the liner notes, she writes that these days, there’s “no beret, no boyfriends, no badass bravado”. But the move to New Orleans took bravado aplenty, one suspects, and the result is the most personal album she’s made in many years. And she’s still pretty badass!
