Subject: REVIEW: Judy Collins - Forever: An Anthology
From:
Peter T.
Date: 20 Oct 98 - 05:00 PM
I thought I would jump the gun. Max -- you can move this when the space becomes available. Comments and other reviews of the same album of course welcome
Judy Collins - Forever (ELECTRA 2 Cds - compilation - CD62104)
For those who came to consciousness in the '60's, Judy Collins will always be one of the white goddesses of folk. Her albums and performances traced an arc from the recovery of traditional folk tunes, through the beginnings of individual songwriting, electrification, and out into the wider world of eclectic song. Her big hits -- "Suzanne", "Both Sides Now", "Send in the Clowns" -- were always evidence of how well her voice and taste could handle other people's material. Everyone has favourites -- "Who Knows Where the Time Goes", "In My Life", etc. Her movement into different kinds of song, helped along by Joshua Rifkin and others, expanded the horizons of people who might have stayed quite happy with more of "Lord Gregory". Her new autobiography, Singing Lessons (1998) tells in grimmer detail than her previous autobiographical excursions, about the dark side of all this, the recent suicide of her beloved son, her own terrible alcoholism, and her so far successful attempts to shore herself up against the ruins of her life.
Forever may be part of that process, and deserves respect, not just for that, but as a current summary statement of an artist who has provided so much pleasure for so many people for so long. Forever is, however, also subject to the rules of production, and like most of this sort of thing, seems to have to include one or two mediocre new things for no very good reason except perhaps to remind the listenership that the lady is still alive and singing. Fans of the earlier summary Colors of the Day will remember that it was virtually a standard throughout the 70's (known for better or worse as Bill Clinton's favourite album). And there are people who still have Recollections (the earlier, earlier summary).
Forever covers all the career, but, wisely, picks most of its cuts from the period of Wildflowers to Judith. There are all sorts of quibbles one can make -- there are two songs off the Fifth Album which are not "Thirsty Boots"!! I also confess to having had a secret wish that someone might have given Judy French pronounciation lessons in the interim so that she could remake "Chanson des Vieux Amants", but by and large the songs hold up just fine. I am not sure that we needed her version of "City of New Orleans" and the space could have been filled with one, maybe even two other songs -- like "Almost Free", maybe? And I have always hated her version of "Amazing Grace" -- purely a contrarian taste here.
Listening to the album first just to give one an excuse to contemplate her career, I ended up thinking of one of the "roads not taken". Collins was such a good singer of hard cabaret songs -- "Pirate Jenny" and "Marat/Sade" -- in part because the clarity of her voice, contrary to the usual smoky and growly singers who tackle them, gave them a strength and power that remain unique. It is interesting to compare the "innocents at the barricades" of the early "It Isn't Nice" (not on Forever), so polite in their incipient fascism, to the real murderousness of "Marat/Sade". "Marat/Sade" still holds up on "Forever" -- a little mini-opera. Someone should have got her into more of that and less of the "Wedding Song" rainbowy stuff as the 70's slimed into town. They could still do that: there are moments on her recent Dylan album of finely hued sardonics.
Instead, and thankfully missing from Forever (forever?), is the drearier 70's and 80's music, much of it her own; put out admittedly during a period where nearly everyone went wrong, Judy included. It was perhaps especially hard on the white goddesses, who wandered this way and that, trying to find some way forward. Joan B. got out of it at last with at least "Diamonds and Rust", but boy it was tough sledding there for awhile. And the Muppet song is not here (phew).
The one recent classic song missing from the album -- though there is a not very interesting virtual clone called "Walls" (co-authored with her husband for the Korean War Memorial) -- is her "Song For Sarajevo". Weirdly enough, you can only find "Song for Sarajevo" on her Christmas album! It is strange to have omitted the one really gripping song of the last few years from an album that is designed to be "forever" (until Cds are replaced anyway). It is interesting that very few people think of Judy Collins as a songwriter, but someone who can write "Since You've Asked" (how's that for a first song?) "My Father," and "Song For Sarajevo" has nothing to apologise for; well, except for some drippy music here and there, but Irving Berlin wrote a thousand dud songs too. I am saddened to find that "Albatross" has well, become a real albatross. Oh for the days when "lavender and leather" set the pulses racing. Still.
One of the odd things about the more recent material (for example, on Dylan) is how little her voice has changed, except a bit more vibrato. I caught myself in contradiction wondering if this meant anything, compared for example to Joan Baez' now ruined voice, or Marianne Faithful's croak, which are in many ways new instruments exploring new registers.
The liner notes are a slightly unfocussed autobiographical ramble -- perhaps the real stuff was being saved for the Singing Lessons book -- and they occasionally refer to songs not on the album, which one would have thought was a bit undiplomatic. Anyway, Forever is with all that, a very good compilation, and if you are starting someone out on her, it couldn't really be bettered. It even has my favourite -- "Bird on A Wire" -- she nails it down and hammers it home.
There are some haunting careful juxtapositions -- her fine song, "Born to the Breed" about her hopes for her son (how can she still listen to it? Did she have another producer come in and work on it for this album?) -- followed by "Maid of Constant Sorrow". There are also one or two inexplicable lapses of taste. For some reason, Judy thanks "Mr. and Mrs. William Clinton" for their help -- this may be designed to be a joke, and given that Gloria Steinem gets a whole page to herself nearby, it had better be. The cover, in spite of the artist's best intentions, is a terrible photograph of a still strikingly beautiful woman, who retains, in spite of it all, much of her amazing grace.
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