Norah Jones
The Fall
(Blue Note, 2009)

Critics can be cruel. And for the past seven years or so, the success of Norah Jones has been whipping some of my nastier colleagues into a frenzy. I’ve seen more than one review refer to her as “S’Norah Jones,” which may be a clever quip, but doesn’t really say anything about her music or vocal style. She’s knocked for being “jazz lite” and laidback, but her warm, intimate vocal style is preferable to the over-singing and over-emoting of the American Idol winners and their clones who have dominated mainstream pop of late. Except for a brief period in the early to mid-’70s, the mass American audience hasn’t necessarily appreciated subtlety in music, so Jones’ success seems like a hopeful sign to me.

This past summer, word began to leak that Jones was working on a “rock” record. While there’s plenty of electric guitar on The Fall, don’t expect Jones to be joining AC/DC on tour anytime soon. The record is a bit, but only a bit, more uptempo than Not Too Late, but it does show off Jones’ considerable songwriting chops. She has a few co-writes here, including two with old collaborator Jesse Harris and one with alt-country ne’er-do-well Ryan Adams, but the strongest tunes are the ones Jones wrote all by herself. Like her past albums, there’s more than a bit of country in her compositions, but the biggest surprises are her excursions into classic ’50s-style R&B.

The set opens with “Chasing Pirates”, a case in point. Alongside a catchy Wurlitzer hook, Jones delivers the perplexing lyric in her usual cool, purring tone. It’s not one of the album’s strongest tunes, but its pleasing melody and retro feel will instantly endear it to listeners familiar with the early days of rock ‘n’ roll.

It takes a while for the album to pick up steam, but once Jones finds her groove, things really take off. “I Wouldn’t Need You” opens the album’s classic phase. It’s steeped in an East Coast street corner doo-wop vibe. It’s too bad Arif Mardin wasn’t around to produce this one. Male backing vocals à la the Drifters would have added another dimension to the track, although it comes across fine as is. A sparse, twang-heavy guitar adds a surf/country vibe to the tune, and Jones plays a brief, subtly bluesy keyboard solo behind a vocal full of longing and heartache.

Jones plays some credible electric guitar on “Waiting”—another tune with a ’50s feel—and is a perfect combination of country and soul. She sings extended vocal lines that end with shivering little trills and softly hummed grace notes. On “It’s Gonna Be”, she channels the spirit of Stevie Wonder and plays her Wurlitzer in a style that suggests the polyrhythmic Clavinet on “Superstition.” It’s a gentle protest song with what may be the best groove Jones has ever written. Her Wurlitzer solo is a model of funky economy. “You’ve Ruined Me” is a quiet, soulful country waltz that expresses the tension and ambivalence one feels towards a relationship that ended badly but still smolders. Jones walks the tightrope again between desire and despair, delivering the kind of reticent longing she excels at.

“December” is a dramatic song of lost love and would have been a perfect vehicle for Roy Orbison. Jones hesitates briefly between each word of verse, adding profound emotion to the simple lyric. The piano provides sparse notes that suggest winter church bells tolling over a frozen landscape. “Tell Your Mama”, a co-write with Harris and Richard Julian, is a slight, jaunty country tune that leads up to the album closer, “Man of the Hour.” Jones riffs off of Fats Waller’s “Ain’t Misbehavin’” and Gus Kahn’s “Makin’ Whoopee” for the melody, a cheeky move, but she pulls it off with aplomb. It’s a sly, playful blues tune that may be about a dog, or a man who acts like a dog, sung by Jones and accompanied only by her piano. It brings the album to a close with a big, sappy grin.

Listen: Various Tracks [at myspace.com]

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