badlands - Chelsea Lee
This new album by Adelaide based vocalist Chelsea Lee is entitled badlands but after listening to it on high rotation for the last month or so, I’ve come to realise that it could have easily been called badass (although as an Australian, I’ve always been mystified by how to pronounce this… is it arse or ass? The later feels way too American and the former just seems a bit gross… does anyone else have this internal angst about how to pronounce badass? Just me? Cool cool, moving right along…) In an era in which modern jazz can all seem a bit polite and devoid of emotion and imagination, this music sounds freshly badass in the best possible way!
From the outset, the music oozes attitude and has an immediately discernible vibe (although I’m not quite sure how exactly to describe it). Words like dark and mysterious come to mind but they don’t feel quite right and they really fail to do the music justice. One of my favourite musical thinkers, Ran Blake describes his music as being noir (as in film noir) and I can’t help but think that this feels apt. With song titles like Napalm Fields and Seven Deadly Sins the music maintains and develops these noir themes and sense of imagery throughout the music.
What makes this record so special is how these themes pervade every aspect of the music; from the way the harmony really pushes into this dark diminished-y world to the decisions about instrumental tone colour and the sound of Chelsea’s voice and lyrical choices. Take the opening title track as an example, the slight crunchiness of the overdriven guitar sound rubs up against the altered dominant harmony of the piano, with the bass and drums simmering, ready to boil over into the super swinging 2nd section of the tune. Pair this with Chelsea’s striking vocal entrance and unique sound, the listener is immediately drawn into the musical landscape and captivated from the outset. The solos on this track are so happening and the band play with such fire and energy that the solos contribute just as much to themes of the song as the lyrics do.
Midway through the album I’m always completely captivated by a beautiful, sad and perfect song. Brimming with old world charm, Dreamers Have It Better Than Me is such a great pastiche of a bygone era in jazz that I actually had to Google it to see if it was some long-lost standard that I had somehow missed! Stripped back to just piano and vocals, you can almost see the scene that this would accompany in an old movie. The protagonist would enter a dimly lit, smoky bar and listen to this intimate cocktail duo, totally transfixed on the music. On the recording, the mics capture a rickety sound in the piano bench or internal mechanisms giving it this really honky quality that could so easily be found on any old recording. I’m a total sucker for this sort of stuff, but what I love so much is that it has this post-modern quality where it really plays up the standard jazz harmony (which is in stark contrast to the other tracks) but doesn’t languish in it. The chromaticism in the melody and dissonant extensions in the harmony give it this unsettling feel that makes it seem perfectly at home with the album as a whole.
One of the many things I’ve really loved about this music/band is how it completely and artfully it shatters any stereotype of a divide between “vocalist” and “band”. In jazz, for years there has been an unhealthy sense of divide between the “boys in the band” and the “female vocalist”. Whilst there are a number of exceptions within the jazz canon, there can be a palpable superiority complex amongst musicians, towards singers that is deeply misogynistic and highly problematic. Despite the more obvious social implications that this divided thinking might have, the insidious effects of this can manifest within the music itself. I have noticed a tendency for jazz musicians to “check out” when playing “behind” vocalists and not take the same musical risks that they might when playing with their instrumental band mates. What’s worse, is they often justify this as a need to “support” the vocalist, which can at times be musically appropriate, but it also can be really patronising and condescending.
Enter, badlands which I think is a perfect model for the exact opposite of what I have just mentioned. This music is a beautiful marriage of high-level improvising (by all parties), unique song writing and deep musical communication. It’s really refreshing to see young musicians and vocalists creating collaborative and original music that goes far beyond the standard roles that have come to be expected. Take the interplay between the vocals and the guitar at the end and start of their solos on Napalm Fields. As they pass the baton, there is this long note in the vocals that blends with the opening phrase of the guitar solo. It is then picked up and developed as the guitar solo gets going and the vocals drift away. Spontaneous moments like this fill the record and demonstrate the level of communication and deep listening amongst the musicians.
If you haven’t already been stirred up enough to go and buy badlands on Bandcamp, there is another really awesome reason to do so. All of the proceeds of this digital album are being donated directly to the Kidman Park Learning Centre in South Australia who support children who live with cerebral palsy and other severe disabilities. Badass jazz with a social conscience – what more could you want!
You can (and should) buy badlands here. You can find out more about Chelea’s music at Facebook here.