Published on Oct 18, 2000
Rickie Lee Jones is the kind of artist whom you will either love
or hate – and, so long as you approach her on her own terms, she
could probably care less either way. She walks her own unique
musical path, daring to try and re-invent jazz one moment, kicking
back with cover versions of her favorite songs the next. It’s
enough to leave you scratching your head – especially, if you’re
someone like me, when you haven’t followed Jones’s career over the
course of the past 20 years.
So don’t be surprised if you aren’t certain what to make of
It’s Like This, Jones’s latest collection of tunes, in which
she tackles 11 songs running the gamut of 20th Century Popular
Music. Is this pseudo hero-worship personified, or is Jones merely
clearing out the pipes with material she fees as comfortable in as
her own skin?
It takes guts for anyone to tackle a menagerie of artists as
varied as George Gershwin and Leonard Bernstein on one end of the
spectrum, and Steely Dan and The Beatles at the other. What’s even
more intriguing is that this combination works, though it is not
something you will grasp right out of the jewel case.
At times, one has to wonder if Jones’s wispy, sing-song,
school-girl voice will be able to handle tough material like Marvin
Gaye’s “Trouble Man,” but those fears are quickly dispelled as
Jones’s vocals cut through the song like a chainsaw through a
sapling. Clearly, effortlessly does she threaten to make material
like this her own – and so long as she’s delivering the goods with
such finesse, who could resist? Similarly, Jones (dueting with Joe
Jackson) sends chills down listeners’ spines with “One Hand, One
Heart”. Other such moments come on “For No One” and a truncated
version of Traffic’s “The Low Spark Of High-Heeled Boys”.
Yet there are moments where one has to wonder what Jones is up
to on
It’s Like This. Her cover of Steely Dan’s “Show Biz Kids” is
solid enough, but she hardly chose the sharpest crayon from the
Steely Dan discography to cover. (Then again, maybe she chose one
which matched her vocal capabilities.) Her take on “Smile” makes me
wonder if there is anything this song has left to prove, and what
Jones’s goal is by taking on Charlie Chaplin’s well-worn song. And
some of the earlier material, like “Up A Lazy River” and “Someone
To Watch Over Me,” doesn’t carry the same impetus that the first
half of the disc does. (In contrast, though, Jones puts wheels on
“I Can’t Get Started,” taking it in directions even Gershwin
probably never dared to dream of.)
It’s Like This, in the end, seems to be a release where
Jones allows herself the freedom to cut the creative rug on songs
she admires. Whether you are willing to come along for the ride or
not, that’s your decision. And, for the most part, the ride is
pretty smooth.