One would expect that the title of Lorraine Feather’s most recent album, The Green World, would refer literally to environmental urgency. Especially since the album’s cover features apparently calm, or no doubt confused, giraffes standing majestically but separately in a maze of hedgerows that appear to stretch to infinity, or at least into a very far distance. Oddly enough, though, the cover’s shade of green lacks verdant vibrancy and instead darkens toward a smoggy grayness.
But, no.
Feather surprises and astounds. Again. The listener familiar with her albums shouldn’t be surprised that “the green world” exists as a metaphorical description of the varying aspects of the human condition.
All of Feather’s albums consist of poetry. Contemplation precedes words. Words precede lyrics. Lyrics precede music.
The words come first, and the words follow.
The title track, which appears first on the album, may perplex the unprepared listener. Assumptions are shattered.
“The Green World,” the composition, presents the humanizing connection between the common notion of “the green world” and Feather’s metaphorical narratives. Thematically intriguing as always, Feather continues to use environmental elements, such as seas or trees, as she launches into stories or ruminations about love. For example: “Leave this mid-sized city, you and me / Drive all night / Wake up to a softer light / In the green world,” “the green world” being the personal rejuvenation experienced with a flight from the unnatural.
All of this started during the COVID-19 pandemic—which all of a sudden required “social distancing,” and the rethinking of the nature of “community,” and of the rethinking of exigencies that complicated the retention of relationships. She sings her words, “Everyone I know would like their life back, please.” “Every time we meet I feel a little less crazy.”
So, “the green world” is about feelings, and the giraffes symbolize estrangement and bafflement.
And so it goes that the oeuvre of one of this generation’s most insightful, imaginative, and singular singers—uncompromising in quality and creativity and content—continues to grow.
The challenge, as with all of Feather’s albums, consists of putting her feelings and words to music. Feather relies on her co-producer and arranger Eddie Arkin, who is thoroughly familiar with her original style, themes, and emotional descriptions. Grant Geissman’s rock-inspired backup and his solo, as well as Arkin’s supernatural-like harmonies and unconventional rhythms (meant to match the rise and fall of the emotions expressed by the words), embellish “The Green World’s” eeriness and effectiveness.
The eccentricity of Feather’s aesthetic inspires her collaborators to match her ideas with musical solutions. She knew exactly who could accomplish her idea to have a theremin depict the undulating calm of “The Seafloor,” played in a slow four-four rhythm. Bassist Michael Valerio knew who could play the theremin to provide the song’s fluid beauty: Joanne Pearce-Martin, the pianist for the LA Philharmonic. The track’s originality didn’t end with its uncommon instrumentation. Through multi-tracking, Valerio not only provides the traditional bass accompaniment, but also provides additional tracks of percussiveness on his bass by tapping or thumping. Once again, “the seafloor” provides many individual comparisons to human emotions, such as “Searching for hope / We tumble down the continental slope / And reach the seafloor.”
While “Canoe” does refer to canoeing, the bodies of water on which it floats suggest the high and low points of a relationship. And Feather’s lyrics outright admit the use of metaphor: “Can you canoe? / Madly in love with the great outdoors / Drowning in water metaphors… / Are you ready for a ride?” Once again, Arkin provides the musical heightening of Feather’s lyrical dual meanings with guitar riffs and with a string trio whose plucking creates the feeling of rowing on placid water.
But essentially, The Green World is about relationships, and some of the other tracks are more straightforward about intent. “Unlike My Ex-Wife” drolly relates the odd experiences of looking for love on seniors’ dating sites. Without even the slightest avoidance, Feather describes some of the things that dating seniors say. Their behavior is typified by a prospect who can’t stop talking about his ex-wife. Pianist Shelly Berg illuminates in three-four time Feather’s storytelling with brilliant fills as if he’s instantaneously following Feather’s improvisational poetry.
Feather takes chances in several ways on The Green World. “Disappearing Universe” commences by quoting a fatalistic passage from Kurt Vonnegut’s famous novel, Slaughterhouse-Five. Sure enough, Feather applies that fatalism to a relationship: “Doomed from bar one, my dear / To end in a disappearing universe.” But as always, the unique characteristic of Feather’s style is how music—provided by friends who know her—strengthens the emotions of her words. This time, it’s pianist Russell Ferrante who contributes an outstanding accompaniment in flowing six-eight rhythm that’s noteworthy for its own excellence.
Although Feather the poet/lyricist doesn’t read music, Berg was able to convince her to tackle the winding intervals of “Freedom Jazz Dance,” whose final exclaimed accent is expressed as “Splat!” which is the song’s title. Paying homage to composer Eddie Harris, Marcus Strickland improvises behind Feather’s singing of “My heart was doin’ the pitter-pat / You bid me a good evening / And I fell for you, splat!”
In addition to recording for the first time with Strickland and drummer Dafnis Prieto (who performs on “Splat!” too), Feather recorded The Green World’s final track, “Something To Look Forward To,” as a duet with pianist Arturo O’Farrill. Their collaboration in writing the song started at UCLA and ended a year later in New York, and it evolved through various refinements during that time. Feather’s inspiration for the song was a quote from civil rights activist Rita May Brown, who boiled down the essential ingredients of happiness as “someone to love, something to do, something to look forward to.” Feather combined that thought with a quote from Wendy Cope’s poem, “The Orange:” (And that orange, it made me so happy / As ordinary things often do / Just lately. The shopping. A walk in the park / This is peace and contentment. It’s new…. / I love you. I’m glad I exist.”) As often happens, the combination of separate elements catalyzed into another element as fascinating as those. Their thoughts, and Feather’s blending them into a new poem, help her end her album of alienation during the pandemic with a message of hope. “Your words fell softly / They cooled my pain / Slow and steady / Like a farmer’s rain / When fields turn green / And then grow gold / A tale of the soul / Eternally told.”
And so it goes.
Artist’s Web Site: lorrainefeather.com
