Anyone who has ever heard Rick Danko of The Band sing ‘It Makes No Difference’ or ‘Caledonia Mission’ knows that only Canadians should be allowed to make country music. The Americans, although they invented it, always seem to make it too hokey, too tailored to conservative expectations. To those that doubt me, I have two words: Garth Brooks.
Vancouver’s Miriam Jones recorded her album in Nashville, but has retained a lot of her Canadian attributes. For a start, she seems to have been photographed standing on an ice-floe (not many of them in Tennessee, I believe) and is wearing an exceedingly fetching woolly hat (not the fashion accessory of choice in Knoxville). More pertinently, her voice has a northern, elfin quality which you sometimes hear in fellow Canucks Alanis Morrisette and Aimee Mann, and which gives her album of largely feel-good country pop an interesting twist or two.
I defy anyone not to be charmed by the sheer naturalness of the melodies in songs such as ‘Always Been Between’, or ‘Fancy Free’, both panegyrics to quirky domestic bliss. The former is my go-to song after a day of office traumas (it’s on a lot, these days), as the blissed-out swing of Jones’ faultless backing band married to the artless folk-tune conspire to dissolve away the suppressed ferocities and impotent rage accrued over the previous eight hours. The one thing that can re-ignite them is to read the lyrics; they are the weakest part of Jones’ game and in the following combination of nervously over-reaching imagery and howling inappropriateness she has produced a comedy classic:
‘You are somewhat elfin, forest-friendly yet refined
While an element of mofo keeps you coolly out of line’
To be fair, this is a nadir, and elsewhere Miriam’s writing solidifies, ( ‘Interstate’ for example, is an evocative road movie in song) but in general her lyrics are fussy and overly obscure. The best thing for the listener is to cover the lyric pages in impenetrable marker pen and just listen to her sing. ‘Fancy Free’ is just lovely, a song by a woman in love with creation, with no hint of irony or nostalgia in sight.
The record is not wall-to-wall country: ‘Love Let Me In’ is a well-sung piano and cello ballad which those that quietly enjoy The Pretenders’ ‘I’ll Stand By You’ but can’t take the more full-on experiences offered by such eight-octave brutes as Mariah Carey or Celine Dion might get some pleasure from. Jones’ Christianity, which is worn lightly on ‘Fancy Free’ is large-and-in-charge on the stern but austerely-impressive hymn ‘I Am One’.
I am orphan made daughter, I am a harlot made a wife
I am a poor man called to dinner, I am a stranger recognised.
It will be interesting to see how Jones’ British audiences, who will be significantly more self-conscious about religious testimony than their American counterparts, respond to such songs. The correct response would be to rush out and campaign to make ‘I Am One’ compulsory in all British churches, but perhaps more likely will be shuffling of feet and looking at the floor.
Miriam Jones has had some joy on the Oxford scene already, with airplay on BBC Oxford and gigs at the Jericho. She deserves to be welcomed, so long as she never, ever calls someone a mofo again.