Richard Shindell
The Courier
Signature Sounds SIG 1270

by Bonny Holder

One of my sisters lives in New York. Her name is HollyBeth but almost everyone, including me, calls her H.B. She just loves Richard Shindell, has for years. On her recommendation, I bought a couple of his CDs, and I liked them ­ I really, really liked them. I especially liked the one he recorded with friends Dar Williams and Lucy Kaplansky, Cry Cry Cry. I was in LIKE with Mr Shindell, but I wasn't in love.

That is, until the live album, The Courier, was released. I pre-ordered it, but when it came I looked at the song list and said to myself, "I know most of those songs already. Too bad he didn't put more new tunes on this one." So it sat on the dining room table (my flat file cabinet) for a week or so until a few days ago when I decided to put my Texoma faves in their cases and listen to some East Coast folk.

While I classify Richard Shindell as an Americana music artist, he doesn't have a lot of cowboy in him (although he lives most of the time in Argentina these days, though probably not on the pampas.) He has a healthy baritone voice and a New Jersey accent (or whatever). I have to let you know that before I go much farther into this review; his inflection is somewhat Celtic, somewhat urban. There is no trace of drawl or y'all in his lyrics or presentation. You may be affectionately amused, for example, how in Lowell George's classic "Willin'," Shindell intones, "I see my pretty Alice in every headlight, Aaahliss, Dahlyss Ahliss."

This is no problem, it's simply notable. From the kick-off notes of the first cut, the title song "The Courier," the listener is transported into a world peopled with characters and stories that sweep the floor of time and human experience. (You'll know what that means after you listen to the CD.)

I am a courier
Crawling in the dirt
Toward the front line
As the crow flies
A note stashed in my shirt.

The courier image is a perfect one for Richard Shindell. His lyrics are less autobiographical than they are allegorical, and his characters more often that not are reporting their condition, not asking for anything. He writes and sings of dead soldiers, truckers ("I've never even been in the cab of a truck," he says, "my life is dull, I make things up."), Heloise & Abelard, a civil war mascot, Mary Magdalen, a witch, a secret lover, an ex-husband, a nun who is a choir conductor at a prison. He throws in a Bruce Springsteen song at the end, a terrific version of "Fourth of July Asbury Park".

Richard Shindell has a social conscience, too. He inserts the words "and folks" into the Lowell George line, "I smuggled some smokes and folks up from Mexico." The most chilling song on The Courier is the song "Fishing", which begins with this aural image:

Please have a seat. Sorry I'm late.
I know how long you've had to wait.
I did not forget your documents.
No time to waste, why not begin?
Here's how it works: I've got these faces.
You give them names, and I won't deport you.
Make sure you face my tape recorder.

Make no mistake, this fountain pen
Could put you on a plane by ten.
And by the way, your next of kin,
I know which house she's hiding in.
So now that you know
whose skin you're saving
In this photograph, who's this one waving?
I think you know, so speak up, amigo.

This is powerful writing which, along with a powerful band, makes The Courier a CD you will play many times before you "get it" all.

I can't even explain a song like "Transit" because it contains so much more magic than I can comfortably interpret on paper, but here's a couple of verses. The setting? Could be the New Jersey Turnpike, or it could be the LBJ Freeway. The first part of the song describes a nightmare of early-evening traffic, "a well-insured crowd hell-bent on Saturday." You can feel the blood pressure rising. But somehow, they were diverted to strange exits. Concurrently, "Sister Maria tightened the bolts of the spare/ She said a quick prayer and put the old van into gear/Thank God the traffic was light."

She entered the common room
and there was her choir
Altos and baritones, basses and tenors
Car-thieves and crack-dealers, mobsters and murderers
Husbands and sons, fathers and brothers.

And so it began, in glorious harmony
Softly and Tenderly - calling for you and me
With the Interstate whining way off in the distance
And the sun going down
Through the bars of the prison.

All these characters would be interesting to read about, but Shindell is a real tunesmith. There isn't a clunker on this disc, and it's not often I can write that.

In "The Ballad of Mary Magdalen", Shindell sings:

My name is Mary Magdaein,
I come from Palestine.
Please excuse these rags I'm in
I've fallen on hard times.
But long ago, I had my work
When I was in my prime.
But I gave it up, and all for love,
It was his career or mine.

"Jesus loved me, this I know," s/he laments. "Why on earth did I ever let him go?"

Lyrics are illustrative of this performance, but the beauty part is songs plus the arrangements plus the band. Shindell has put together a dream group for this CD. John Putnam sparkles on electric guitars, Denny McDermott on drums, Lincoln Schleifer on bass, and Lucy Kaplansky on harmony vocals. Kaplansky does an excellent job complimenting every little vocal nuance that Shindell throws her way. Pay close attention to the beautiful counterpoint in "Memory of You."

Also present are Greg Anderson on bouzouki, cittern & guitar, Lisa Gutkin on violin, Rad Lorcovic on accordion, and Larry Campbell on violin. Shindell accompanies himself on guitar.

The Courier has to be a production dream-come-true for Richard Shindell and his growing legion of fans. It deserves to be commercially successful, and played on freeform stations all over the world. He and label-mates Dave Carter & Tracy Grammer are now on tour with Joan Baez, which speaks volumes to her courage because both these opening acts are show-stealers.

Richard Shindell can be contacted at www.signaturesounds.com

You can contact Bonny Holder at bonny-at-rockzilla.net

 
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