NORAH JONES — Come Away With Me (review)

NORAH JONES — Come Away With Me album cover

Album · 2002 · Vocal Jazz

4.5/5 · 2012-06-03
Chicapah

Amusing how we of the masculine species too often assume that humans belonging to our gender are the principal trend-setters in music when history plainly shows that females are more than equally capable of drastically altering the popular currents and do so with regularity. And it’s not usually via introducing some radical element into the mainstream but, rather, by re-teaching all of us that it’s the simple things in life we’ve somehow lost sight of and wandered too far away from. Sade burst onto the screwed up, MTV virus-infected scene in the mid 80s and entranced millions with her back-to-the-basics, no-nonsense approach that eschewed all crass gimmicks and trickery. Jaded folks everywhere flocked to her. Most recently Adele has gathered the world to her feet by writing and elegantly performing tunes that reach right into people’s hearts and souls with amazing ease while her jealous contemporaries still insist on glamorizing their shallow offerings by majoring in inane catch phrases and ridiculous, over-the-top stage antics. In the early goings of the new millennium, Norah Jones did the very same thing as Sade and Adele with “Come Away With Me” and it makes you wonder why more artists can’t figure out that the adage of “just keep it simple, stupid,” is no empty expression.

In a continuation of the inclinations established during the nomadic 90s, modern music was all over the place as civilized men and women entered the 2000s when this petite daughter of Ravi Shankar suddenly appeared and reminded the planet of the subtle power poignant music can wield on society at large. Released in February ’02, this record was just what the doctor prescribed and folks gravitated to it without hesitation. Raised in the cosmopolitan yet rural-hued Metroplex of Dallas/Fort Worth and educated in the jazzy environs of the respected University of North Texas, Norah benefited from being exposed to a virtual potpourri of musical influences that ranged from R&B to blues, Indie rock to C&W. Her skillful, delicate blend of those seemingly contradictory styles made her music bob above the rabble like a cork on a lake and she made the entire music industry take notice. A star had undoubtedly been born.

You can decide within seconds of hearing the album’s opener, “Don’t Know Why,” if this is your cup of Celestial Seasonings or not. The coy lady lays her sweet wares right out there from the get-go and doesn’t waver from her passion. This song underscores what I’ve been trying to say in that sometimes the effectiveness of a modest motif is absolutely astounding in its profundity. You’ll notice Jones’ sensuous voice needs only a quartet of piano, bass, guitar and drums to provide the appropriate surrounding scenery and the result is intoxicating. “Seven Years” follows and you’ll find no fancy studio slight-of-hand at work here, just an honest performance of a lovely number. The Dobro ride is exquisite. Her stunning rendition of the old Hank Williams chestnut, “Cold, Cold Heart,” is next and it’s as if she was able to channel the spirit of the great Peggy Lee. Norah’s sly, jazzy delivery gives this country classic an entirely new personality. A gentle, loping drum beat guides the pleasant “Feelin’ the Same Way” down a lazy river and you’re happy to float along without a care because by now you’re either fully invested in Ms. Jones’ deal or you’ve turned it off. Norah penned the classy title cut herself, a ballad with a slow, extremely hypnotic sway that’s difficult for inexperienced musicians to maintain but her backing combo of pros never shies away from the challenge for a nanosecond. As a plus, the guitar solo is gorgeous.

“Shoot the Moon” is a pretty song that upholds the consistent ambience of the record with integrity. “Turn Me On,” providing a tactful turn at this juncture, is a mix of countrified blues and gospel in which Jones takes the opportunity to stretch her voice a bit. She leans into Bluegrass territory ever so slightly on “Lonestar,” adopting an Alison Kraus & Union Station-ish mien to do the song proper justice. A true highlight of the disc is “I’ve Got to See You Again.” There’s more of a jazzy, mysterious atmosphere at play here and it makes the number enticing and fairly exotic. The addition of Jenny Scheinman’s violin is a stroke of genius. “Painter Song” owns a nostalgic tint with a French twist supplied by the accordion that wafts in and out of the track. It’s very nicely done. Delicious piano leads you into “One Flight Down” and disarms you immediately. This is another exemplary tune. Graceful songs about birds rarely fail to entrance and Norah’s “Nightingale” is no exception. The interplay between her piano and Jesse Harris’ guitar is a blessing to one’s ears. The been-around-forever tremolo guitar effect can be annoying when misused but, in the hands of an expert and crafted properly, it can be immensely soothing as it is on “The Long Day is Over.” The whole band turns in a beautiful performance. Jones ends with a true gem from Hoagy Carmichael & Ned Washington, “The Nearness of You.” It’s a fitting finale as she sends the sidemen home early and serenades you with only her trusty piano for accompaniment. It’s a blissful moment to savor.

Without dishonoring Ray Charles’ bold adventure he undertook in the early 60s, this album could’ve been aptly named “Modern Sounds in Country and Western Music in the 21st Century” and few would protest. Norah proved once again that jazz and traditional Americana song structures were not equivalent to oil and water but could be magical when allowed to commingle without pretense. This debut record went to #1 in almost every country on planet Earth, stayed on the Billboard charts for 161 weeks, has sold over 22 million copies to date and garnered 8 Grammy awards (including the coveted Album of the Year trophy) so I really don’t have to defend my affection for it. Here’s the bottom line: A record doesn’t have to be perfect to be a masterpiece, it just has to be perfectly genuine. And “Come Away With Me” is the real McCoy.