Expect the Unexpected

Every once in a while a great album is born, gets panned undeservedly by the critics, wallows about for a while in the New Releases section of the local record store, and quickly drops below the radar. Such is the case with this disc.

Essence was the follow-up album to alt-country rocker, Lucinda Williams’ much-ballyhooed Car Wheels on a Gravel Road (1998). Car Wheels, in case you missed that one too, was a raucous fit of blues, slide guitar and aching vocals—all topped off with a mild country twang. It’s the kind of country album that people who hate country absolutely love: smart, complex and, if you’re the type who never learns the lyrics anyway, just a hell of a lot of fun to stomp your foot to.

2001’s Essence, by turns, may not exactly be "Car Wheels Part II", but it covers much of the same terrain (heart ache, regret, and a healthy dose of unadulterated lust) with just as much style…though perhaps played with less shimmy and shake.

But enough abstracts. What make Essence great? First, strong lyrics. Williams wrings a hell of a lot of meaning out of some deceptively simple words. The first couple stanzas from I Envy the Wind serve as worthy examples.

I envy the wind
That whispers in your ear
That howls through the winter
That freezes your fingers
That moves though your hair
And cracks your lips
That chills you to the bone
I envy the wind

I envy the rain
That falls on your face
That wets your eyelashes
And dampens your skin
And touches your tongue
And soaks through your shirt
And drips down your back
I envy the rain...

photo courtesy of PasteMusic

The second thing that makes this album great is a trait that I can’t do justice to with my own words, and that’d be the artist’s delivery. Williams’ vocal style, like her guitar playing, is more sleepy blues than country. Without overstressing a single phrase, she comes off convincing and seductive every time.

It’s strange but, if the songs on this album were handled by any other singer I’d probably find them overbearing and, to be blunt, downright creepy. There’s a fine line between romantic longing and a restraining order, but somehow Williams always manages to deliver downright desperate content in a way that winds up wistful instead of frightening. Consider a few lines from the album’s title track…

Baby, sweet baby, kiss me hard
Make me wonder who’s in charge

I am waiting here for more
I am waiting here by your door
I am waiting on your back steps
I am waiting in my car
I am waiting at this bar
I am waiting for your essence

Baby, sweet baby, I wanna feel your breath
Even though you like to flirt with death

Baby, sweet baby, can’t get enough
Please come find me and help me get fucked up...

If you like your country full of bounce, pep and bright-eyed optimism (Shania Twain, the Dixie Chicks, Kenny Chesney), this album isn’t going to please you. I say that and fear that some of you reading this will then assume that Essence is one of those stereotypically, maudlin country and western albums (“My wife left me and took the pick up truck”). It’s anything but. There are enough rockin’ tunes here to make this album a necessary companion on each and every road trip. Essence just happens to also be a particularly stripped down, introspective and dark album. Sometimes that can be a very good thing.