“Who Believes In Angels? (Interscope Records)
By Eleni P. Austin
Are you familiar with the expression “good on paper?” That’s an easy way to describe the new collaboration between Elton John and Brandi Carlile on their new album, Who Believes In Angels? In theory, it seems like a good idea, in practice, not so much.
The pair have been pals for nearly two decades. Elton, of course is a music superstar of epic proportions. The flamboyant 78 year-old began his music career at age 15 in 1962. But it really took flight a few years later, when the singer-songwriter partnered with lyricist Bernie Taupin. His music went on to define the ‘70s. He released a series of critically acclaimed crowd-pleasers, starting with his eponymous second effort and continuing with Tumbleweed Connection, Madman Across The Water, Honky Chateau, Don’t Shoot Me, I’m Only The Piano Player, Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, Caribou, Captain Fantastic And The Brown Dirt Cowboy and Rock Of The Westies. Throughout the Me Decade, he practically owned the airwaves. Hits like “Your Song,” “Levon,” “Tiny Dancer,” “Honky Cat,” “Crocodile Rock,” “Daniel,” “Bennie & The Jets,” “The Bitch Is Back,” “Don’t Let The Sun Go Down On Me,” “Someone Saved My Life Tonight,” “Island Girl” and “Philadelphia Freedom” are imprinted on the DNA of anyone who came of age during that era.
The ‘80s were a little more turbulent. Elton’s um, appetites were catching up with him. Although he wasn’t in the closet, he didn’t feel free enough to be true to his authentic self, and that fueled his demons. Still, he managed to write hits like the tender John Lennon tribute, “Empty Garden,” the defiant “I’m Still Standing” and the lovelorn “I Guess That’s Why They Call It The Blues.”
Following a stint in rehab, Elton positively roared through the ‘90s. He continued to write and record his own music, but he was also enlisted to create the soundtrack for Disney’s The Lion King film. That netted him and writing partner Tim Rice an Academy Award. Completely out and proud as a gay man, he formed a lasting romantic relationship with David Furnish (the couple began with a civil partnership in 2005 and officially wed in 2014 when same-sex marriage became legal in Great Britain. Their young sons, Zachary and Elijah served as ring bearers).
By the dawn of the 21st century, he jettisoned the ballad-heavy sound that characterized his ‘90s output and released Songs From The West Coast. Thoroughly reinvigorated, this mini-renaissance continued with albums like Peach Tree Road and The Captain & The Kid. In 2010 collaborated with longtime compadre Leon Russell and the result was The Union, which hit #3 on the Billboard Top 200.
Something of a musical omnivore, Elton has always been thrilled by the discovery of new talent. Over the years he has championed artists like Rufus Wainwright, Lady Gaga and Ed Sheeran. He felt the same frisson of excitement when he first heard Brandi Carlile.
A self-described queer kid, Brandi grew up in a conservative household in rural Washington state. Music was her salvation. Patsy Cline and Elton John were early inspirations. She made her public singing debut at age eight, covering a Johnny Cash song.
Fast-forward 16 years later and she released her self-titled debut, via Sony Records. Warm and intimate, her sound was a sharp synthesis of Country, Folk and Rock, anchored by her gale-force voice. Critics quickly took notice. As did heavy-hitters like T-Bone Burnett (who produced her second album), and Elton, who sang Brandi’s praises to anyone who would listen.
By her fifth long-player, The Firewatcher’s Daughter, she received her first Grammy nod. 2018 saw the release of By The Way I Forgive You. That watershed effort hit #5 on the Billboard charts and topped plenty of critics’ Top 10 lists. Nominated for six Grammy Awards, it won three for Best Americana Album, Best American Roots Song and Best American Roots Performance.
In the last few years, she’s released “In These Silent Days,” and in between raising two daughters with her wife, Catherine, she’s produced albums for Tanya Tucker, as well as Lucius. She also coaxed Joni Mitchell back on stage, performing with the legendary singer-songwriter, along with a surfeit of Joni acolytes. Meanwhile, Elton was wrapping up his final world, and the time felt right for the pair to collaborate. Hunkering down in the studio with Bernie Taupin, the trio created Who Believes In Angels? from scratch.
The album starts of with a bang. But not the good kind. The opening trio of tracks offer up a trifecta of excess. First up, “The Rose Of Laura Nyro” positions itself as a tribute to the gifted singer-songwriter who was critically acclaimed, but commercially underappreciated. The song bloops to life with a grandiloquent instrumental overture that lasts nearly two minutes, a wash of spacey keys, an insistent four-on-the-floor beat, roiling bass and ‘70s AOR-style guitar. Elton’s rococo piano notes finally emerge at the end, accompanied by some celestial “ahhs.” Essentially, the antithesis of a Laura Nyro song, but oh-so Elton.
As the instrumental smoke clears, the piano sketches out some skeletal chords that echo Laura’s “Eli’s Coming” song. Elton and Brandi’s voices intertwine, and the verses seem to namecheck trademark Nyro-isms: “…From Stoney End to London, words unfold as black as coal, Sweet Blindness in her eyes, Stoned Souls perform in Central Park in a mask of her disguise.” For the most part, the vocals are submerged, smothered in the turgid arrangement, the verbose lyrics are truly indecipherable. It’s all verse, and no chorus, except for the occasional insertion of the phrase “Eli’s Coming.” Ultimately, it feels like a missed opportunity. Laura’s songs were always a smorgasbord of sound but her voice (which had a three octave mezzo-soprano range), was consistently front and center.
There’s a moment of respite before the jarring arrangement of “Little Richard’s Bible” kicks in. Discordant keys and electronic handclaps inexplicably fold into a more conventional Jump Blues style Elton favored on “I’m Still Standing.” Elton’s stentorian vocals barely rise above the cacophony, which is unfortunate because lyrics like “Penniman and Macon go together, singing loud sweet Georgia, ooh my soul, black mascara thicker than molasses, sex and sinners take a toll, freedom feathers falling from old Jim Crow, got the Mississippi Blues on the radio, Big Easy baking in the red hot sun, Rock and Roll to number one,” neatly distill the story of Little Richard. One of the architects of Rock & Roll, he struggled with sin and salvation and blazed a trail for extravagant performers like Elton. Meanwhile, Brandi can barely be heard. Even when Elton rips one of his patented piano solos on the break, deftly paying homage to his idol, he’s competing with the (less than Spector-esque) wall of sound.
Then there’s “Swing For The Fences,” which suffers from, um, a premature musical climax at the beginning of the song. Spiky guitars and thumping bass collide as the scattershot beat gathers speed. Brandi is up front, but her vocals have lost all subtlety. Worse, the song’s cliched lyrics immediately feel like the musical equivalent of the “Hang In There, Baby” motivational Cat poster. (You know, the one that hung in your high school guidance counselor’s office). No, really: “Beautiful you, they got nothing on you, yeah, I’m talking to you, get out of the blue, they got nothing for you/Go on and swing for the fences, alright, take a shot at the moon, a dandelion that dances takes chances and fancies every light in the room.” Once again, Elton’s rollicking piano solo is swathed in a swirl of busy instrumentation, along with graceless “woo-hoos” and “ahhh-has.”
Both “Who Believes In Angels?” and “The River Man” hedge their bets. The former begins promisingly, ethereal piano chords wrap around Brandi’s unadorned vocals. Elton’s voice chimes in on the second verse, the vibe is conversational and mercifully free of the instrumental overload. Lyrics seem to ponder life’s choices, should we have zigged when we could have zagged: “If I’d lived an easy life, would I still choose you, would I fall on the same knife, a rodeo queen breathing fire into the night, I have been there, man, I have been there.” Before there’s room for any contemplation, the instrumentation and arrangement explode with blowsy, Rock Opera excess. Although the melody veers slightly, sharing some musical DNA with the Roberta Flack hit, “Killing Me Softly With His Song,” it lacks the nuance of the original. The song continues to winnow down and then garishly roar back to life, even including some effective call-and-response vocals at the finish. It would have been far more powerful as an introspective piano ballad.
The latter opens with braided acoustic guitars as Brandi’s arching contralto soars. Elton joins on the second verse. so far, so good, but suddenly a jackhammering beat and driving guitar crest atop an onslaught of superfluous instrumentation. And on it goes, reining it in with percussive piano notes, sugary guitar licks, and a pugnacious beat, only to reopen the floodgates, unleashing a instrumental deluge. Adding to this mishegoss, inscrutable lyrics seem to alternately rail against weekend warriors and venerate a river man. (Perhaps it’s meant to be a sly diss aimed at the Ted Nugent “Weekend Warriors song and a tip of the hat to Nick Drake’s broody “River Man” ballad).
It’s not all bad news. A couple of songs are actually pretty good. Take “Never Too Late,” flowery piano notes are matched by churchy keys and Elton’s commanding vocals. Brandi leaps in on the second verse and their voices truly harmonize. Lyrics speak to Elton’s restless, endless quest to experience what’s fresh, new and au courant. If it means telling the guy at the Pearly Gates to “Fuck Off,” he’s here for it: “Darling, don’t bore me, with the same old tired story, what’s new in the news, what’s hot, where’s the glory, only dwell in the past for laughing at time, don’t the years make jokes of all of us, let the whole, whole century slide.” His moodily magnificent piano solo on the break adds some Gospel heft, recalling Elton’s early ‘70s heyday.
Then there’s “You Without Me.” This time, it’s Brandi on her own and she has taken a strange detour into Phoebe Bridgers territory. Powered by jittery keys, quicksilver guitars and thrumming bass, vocals are stacked but remain intimate. Lyrics feel confidential and confessional, reserved but revealing. But it’s difficult to determine if the lyrics addressing a mentor, a child or a lover: “As predictable as time and age, but comforting in some strange way, time makes every one of us an absolute cliché, but when I met you face-to-face, none of it was true, so who am I, if I’m not you/There you are, my morning star, I wondered when you’d show, give me just a quick thumbs-up, a wink before you go, I never heard that voice before today, I remind myself to breathe, I’m ever just a thought away, if you ever need me, you’re gonna live a lot of life, you’re gonna see a lot of years. God willing, just you, without me.”
Other decent tracks include the cautious optimism wrapped in good old country comfort on “A Little Light,” and the low-key,” mid-tempo groove of “Someone To Belong To.” Both scrap the “everything-but-the-kitchen-sink” approach, allowing the listener to appreciate the dovetailing vocals, homespun lyrics and easy-going arrangements.
The record closes with another winner, “When This Old World Is Done With Me.” It’s a bare-bones affair, just Elton and his trusty piano. A regal Lion King in winter, he unspools a soulful soliloquy looking back on a life filled with dazzling highs and devastating lows: “I don’t want for nothing, I’ve been alright, I’ve been okay, I’ve been fine, I’ve had clouds with silver linings, complicated mornings, love that left me wanting and hearts that changed my mind…None of this came easy, the shadows, the curtain or the light, the pain inside, the leaving, the taming of the demons, no longer any reason left for me to fight.” Equal parts mordant meditation and a gimlet-eyed request, the chorus walks a tightrope between grace and gravitas: “And when this old world is done with me, just know I came this far to be broken up in pieces, scatter me among the stars, when this old world is done with me, when I close my eyes, release me like an ocean wave, return me to the tide.” A wistful piano coda is latticed with sylvan strings, woodwinds and brass, beautifully underscores the majesty of the moment.
Who Believes In Angels would have been infinitely more satisfying had the songs remained unadorned. All of the pomp, circumstance and studio frippery camouflages some pretty intriguing music. In this instance, less could have been so much more.
