I read a review a while back that said Neko Case's voice could drive demons to weeping and angels to burning, and I've yet to hear a better description.
Each time I've seen her in concert, she's brought me to tears at some point in the evening, and not because she was singing a sad song, necessarily; I just became so...overcome.
It is my belief that there are precious few people in this world who are truly blessed with a voice that is more than the person, the melody, the words. I think my idea of God lives somewhere in the climax of Sinead O'Connor's "Troy", or when Maynard James Keenan hits those notes in the bridge of "The Hollow." I still maintain that Maynard is the most amazing male rock vocalist I've ever heard, whether it's with Tool or A Perfect Circle, live or on record -- there is no effort, no strain; it's as if he opens his mouth and The Voice comes pouring out of him. And that is what makes Neko Case my favorite female singer (still living, anyway); that ability to reach right into my guts with but a few notes. I listen to her sometimes and I can't breathe, can't think, can't do anything but absorb and teeter between crying and dying. She pushes that button in me. It's beyond coherent or reasoned explanation; like trying to describe an orgasm.
I first saw her open for Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds -- her, an upright bass player, and Jon Rauhouse (one of the most amazing lap steel guitar players alive). She walked out onto the stage with this simple set-up, dressed in a skirt and heels, red hair over her shoulders; stepped up to the mic as the noise of the 9:30 Club continued unabated, opened her mouth to let loose those first notes and, to this day, I have never seen a crowd react the way that one did when she began singing. Her voice hit the rafters and stunned the whole room into silence. And no one so much as breathed until she finished her set. 95% of the people there had no clue who she was, but I can guarantee they knew it leaving, and never forgot.
Yes, her stuff has a country flavor now and again, but it's noir; true American gothic. This is swamps and prairies and deer and blood and murder and sex and love as it was intended -- as it is. And it's sung in a voice that moves from righteous fury to devastating regret and heartbreak in but half a breath, while maintaining a self-possession that evokes fear and comfort simultaneously. She's one of my favorite lyricists, too, hitting on all of the imagery that resonates somewhere deep, deep inside of me, grabbing my ghosts by the neck and taking them straight to home soil.
Fox Confessor Brings The Flood is her fifth solo outing and fourth proper full-length, and on the heels of the shimmering, midnight-dark torch songs of Blacklisted , a decidedly gentler affair all the way around. This is an album of fables and recollections presented in Case's sweeping, cinematic style, be it the sinister and haunting lilt of stand-out track "Dirty Knife", the earnest "Hold On, Hold On", or the heart-rending hope of "Maybe Sparrow" (a song Case has been performing live for three years). Every song is crafted with Case's trademark eye for detail and features surprising instrumental flourishes (ah, those cellos) that punctuate, but never overwhelm, the otherworldly sheen of these twelve tracks. Much like Nick Cave, Case has the innate ability to evoke age, setting, and character as readily as mood, best illustrated here on "A Widow's Toast", a slip of a song infused with the spirit of a world-weary Vera Lynn.
Recorded in Tucson, there's the usual suspects adding their touch: Calexico's Joey Burns and John Convertino, and Howe Gelb. And of course Kelly Hogan's soulful backing vocals paired with the phenomenal playing of Jon Rauhouse (whose own solo work is highly recommended). I daresay there's a touch of Tucson's undemanding atmosphere at work here, but this record is never without poise, and is brimming with heart.
With each album, she keeps getting better. A dangerous woman, Ms. Neko Case.
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