The story of Lissie – the Rock Island native who went to California with dreams of stardom that you could hear on two albums, and who then returned to the Midwest and bought an Iowa farm – is captured in the second track on her new album My Wild West, and it’s the emotional and musical retreat you’d expect.
Following an instrumental overture, the largely piano-and-voice “Hollywood” hits obvious notes of regret and pain: “Oh, Hollywood / You broke my heart just because you could.”
The nuances here – the shoulda-known-better admission – do little to justify the song or its foregrounding on the album. Its prominence only begins to make sense when you take the long view of My Wild West.
Like “Hollywood,” the front half of the album feels oddly self-conscious – with over-thought stylistic shifts. But the back end goes a long way toward correcting that, as My Wild West reveals itself to be a lot like most Lissie songs: a patient lull before she unleashes that monster of a voice.
And in that context, the whole begins to make sense as a story with its tentative beginning in Hollywood disappointment. Slowly but surely, Lissie sheds shackles over the course of the album, growing more confident and less burdened. Precise articulations of muted moods give way to anticipated but unpredictable detonations. The record, ultimately, becomes the best and freest long-form expression of Elisabeth Maurus’ forceful performance talent and casual authenticity.
Her career thus far has been as frustrating as it’s been rewarding. There’s no denying the power of her beautifully rambunctious voice, or her skill in carrying songs ranging from rough-edged folk to polished pop perfection to deeply felt and transformed covers.
But her two previous albums never quite coalesced, feeling calculated and fussed-over in pursuit of commercial success. Catching a Tiger, from 2010, was promising and effective but the entirety was less than its parts. Back to Forever, from 2013, stripped away more of Lissie’s inherent charisma as a singer and songwriter. In both cases, Lissie seemed to be following rather than leading.
In contrast, on her meat-and-potatoes guitar-rock covers of Kid Cudi’s hip-hop “Pursuit of Happiness” and Lady Gaga’s “Bad Romance” (both on her 2011 EP Covered Up with Flowers), she just let it rip, and her comfort and ease with the material was revelatory.
My Wild West bridges that divide. Its arrangements are varied, shapely, and thoughtfully appropriate, and they rarely restrain Lissie’s free-spirited singing. The basic formula of the songs – the tried-and-true gradual building of vocal and instrumental intensity – holds for most of the album, but the artist’s primary strength has always been the undeniable current of her voice; it’s an instrument that has the rush of a raging river, sweeping the helpless listener along.
Following “Hollywood,” “Wild West” puts that to use in a processed-pop context, and you can almost hear her weapon of choice pushing through the limits of the musical setting.
From there, the album feels released from the past, and Lissie alternates between Americana, ballads, pop, and rock, with each style a solid and unforced expression of her artistry.
The western Americana of “Hero,” with its light horn accents and guitar curlicues, is the perfect solid footing for Lissie’s singing and songwriting. Evocative but unobtrusive in its build, release, and relax framework, the arrangement gives Maurus plenty of room and guidance for her expressive but disciplined croons, laments, and explosions.
The quieter “Sun Keeps Risin’” starts with a bird call and a light wash of synthesized sounds, but those provide color to the backbone of acoustic guitar, keyboards, and vocals rather than trapping the whole. The song has a simple slow rise – climaxing with the wordless ache of Lissie’s singing – and a sudden collapse.
As a pop foil to “Wild West,” “Don’t You Give Up on Me” keeps things simple and straightforward in the production, with an insistent pulse in the drums, bass, and acoustic guitar, and the lead guitars providing an effective counterpoint to the vocals.
But the second half of the album is where things really come together. There’s the banjo and wheezy cello of “Stay,” the full release of a rock goddess on “Daughters,” the lovely, soft earnestness of “Together or Apart,” and the spare nakedness of “Shroud,” which sounds like a stripped-down variation on the Pixies’ “Where Is My Mind?” through a Lissie filter.
And, finally, there’s the warm peace of “Go for a Walk” and the wrenching folk goodbye to her California home in “Ojai.” It’s clear that Lissie has mixed feelings about returning to her Midwestern roots, but My Wild West is gorgeous proof that she’s back where she belongs.
For more information about Lissie, visit Lissie.com.
