Just over a year ago, an 1860 recording of the Debussy composition
“Clair de Lune” was unearthed in France. The brief ten-second section
sung by an unknown woman, which predates the earliest of Edison’s
recordings by almost twenty years, reminds us of the decidedly
pleasurable sound of a woman’s voice being set down to tape for an
audience to later consume — or, in this case, discover.
In the post-everything world, it would be foolish to comment upon
the merits of one sex’s vocal ability over the other. (To hear Gram
Parson’s reprisal of “Do Right Woman,” replete with identical lyrics to
that of the Aretha Franklin version, does, however, call into question
some gender issues.) But groups imbued with the most confidence and,
arguably, the most talent can move beyond this morass of pronouns and
simply come up with a few memorable verses. That, though, isn’t the
only connection between Scotland’s the Vaselines and Seattle’s the
Dutchess and the Duke, who play together at Bimbo’s 365 Club in San
Francisco this week.
In addition to mining gendered dichotomies, each group seeks to
incorporate a modicum of similar influences. Even as so much of music’s
lyrical content is consumed by ruminations on love and loss, between
these two particular bands, the topic gets a slight reworking. That
said, neither duo drastically redefines the way in which songs are
structured, but tries to lend a new perspective or hook to the
proceedings. Sonically, the bands don’t share too many similarities,
but the basis of some mythologized folk music serves as the
underpinnings of both bands.
At times, the Vaselines become a bit too irreverent even for the
most ardent fan to look past — Rory! Ride me
slowly/Ride me raw, raw, raw, being an example of a ridiculous yet
effective lyric amidst a jangly pop offering. But a few occasions find
the genuine emotional content able to bolster the simplistic music and
words loosened from each track. “Slushy,” on which both Frances McKee
and Eugene Kelly sing, puts forth a simple sketch of two women who,
presumably, the songwriter didn’t have the gall to approach. Again,
content-wise it’s not all that dramatic. But hearing McKee sing a few
passionate couplets about the subject of Kelly’s gaze not only
significantly broadens the track’s appeal musically, but connects the
two singers in some genderless, albeit lovelorn state.
Much the same can be said for the Seattleites’ “I Am Just a Ghost”
from its 2008 disc She’s the Dutchess, He’s the Duke. The song,
which could be construed as more artfully crafted than anything from
the Vaselines’ catalog, tells a nondescript lover I ain’t got no
heart to love/I ain’t got no hand to hold/And it’s enough to drive you
crazy. The gender-neutral subject of the song allows both Jesse
Lortz and Kimberly Morrison to vocalize how this unrequited emotional
situation is actually going to be played out. It doesn’t look too good.
Working in a more folksy tradition, the Dutchess and the Duke examine
as much interpersonal fare as any other group. But while the Vaselines
run traditional song-craft through a screen of serpentine feedback, the
Seattleites prefer a more toned-down, contemplative approach.
“I was listening to a lot of Stones when I wrote that album,” Lortz
admits after being asked why so many critics attempted to connect the
music of the Dutchess and the Duke with that of the Brits’ catalog, “so
it makes sense.” Referring to the Stones’ sound during the period of
1967 to 1968, he added: “That was their experimental period, where
their songs were a little more introspective and human.”
The comparison, spurious or not, can’t manage to simplify the work
that Lortz and Morrison have created thus far. Lortz explains, however,
that the band’s forthcoming disc, which was recorded in Oakland with
the Gris Gris’ Greg Ashley, it “a very different record than the
first.” With this album due out by the fall, it’ll be a chance for the
Northwest duo to extricate themselves from the pervasive ties to rock
‘n’ roll’s past.
The 150-year history of recording won’t be recast when the Dutchess
and the Duke open for the Vaselines at Bimbo’s. But the two uniquely
inclined groups will have the chance to not only remind audiences of
past triumphs, but the way in which a band can unknowingly affect the
individual — or even the greater culture.
