Published on Nov 30, 2005
At his best, rock session man Leon Russell sounded like a
swamp-fueled Creedence Clearwater Revival with a shot of Dylan. At
his worst, his grating voice was merged with songs too weird to be
enjoyable.
Carney contains the best of both worlds with a nod to the
latter category. There is a reason why Russell is the most famous
nobody in rock — he built everyone else’s careers, yet his own
never really went anywhere, save for the hit “Lady Blue” in 1975,
and this release shows why.
Classic rock fans might remember “Tightrope,” which uses circus
images to explain the singer’s stance in life (“I’m up on the
tightrope / One side’s hate and one is hope / But to top that off,
my head is all you see”). It’s a pretty good song, but Russell’s
nasally swamp drawl is an acquired taste that either enhances or
ruins the song, no middle ground.
“Out In The Woods” is a nice little shuffle number, while
“Roller Derby” is an all-too-brief honky tonk piece inspired by
gospel – both get points for being original. Really, the beauty of
this album is in its originality, but original does not always
equal good, as the album eventually realizes.
A number of melancholy songs about self-reflection and loss
pepper this release. “Manhattan Island Serenade” veers between
minor chords/depressing lyrics and major chords/hopeful lyrics,
carried by a piano and the sound of rain. “Me And Baby Jane” is an
embarrassing try at a love song, while “This Masquerade” is a
tearjerker about divorce, backed up by a mournful flute.
There really isn’t any happiness on the album, except for the
throwaway 40-second title track and the awful “Cajun Love Song.”
“If The Shoe Fits” is also rather upbeat, with Russell channeling
Jethro Tull to mediocre results, while “My Cricket” is an extremely
slow ballad lacking emotion but compensating with Russell’s awful
voice. There is also a psychedelic tune called “Acid Annapolis,”
which is just people imitating Scooby Doo-type ghosts for three
minutes, and that’s probably all I need to say.
Russell redeems himself with “Magic Mirror,” in which his voice
sounds right in place singing the tale of a man who doesn’t know
his place in the world (“The sellers think I’m merchandise /
They’ll have me for a song / The left ones think I’m right / The
right ones think I’m wrong”). The piano and finger-snaps give the
song a casual roadside feel, and the listener can picture Russell
telling his side of the story to the truck driver that picked him
up as he was hitchhiking somewhere far from home.
Carney is certainly original and interesting, an emotional
concept album that could have been so much better. Sadly, the bad
or mediocre songs here outweigh the high points, making this
nothing more than a curiosity for the interested.