This Loud Morning

                                                  

  I would not make a very good professional record reviewer.  First, I could never publish a review of a recording on the day it was released.  Second, I couldn't review a record after listening to snipets of tracks or even after only one listen.  A professional reviewer would have to do just that given the time constraint to get a review in print, and the pressure of reviewing more than one album at a time.  Recently, I have read reviews of This Loud Morning, the latest effort by David Cook, season seven American Idol champion. 

     The review in Entertainment Weekly was only a single paragraraph and didn't offer a bit of constructive criticism or praise, and lacked purpose other than to comment on Cook's admiration of late '90's post-grunge bands.  Maybe if he wore more shirts made of beef or had song titles requiring asterisks instead of vowels, the attention would have been taken away from his influences.   All Music offered a little longer and more endearing account of the album as a whole, but didn't offer any insight into the concept of the album or interpretation of any of its songs, only the voice and the conviction, which were a given.

     Cook first caught my eye and my ears when he was a contestant on Idol.  I had never been a fan of Idol other than to listen to the new wannabes strut their stuff.  I first took notice of David when passing the television while he was singing Happy Together, the old Turtles' classic.  Since the '60's are my favorite era of music, I couldn't help but notice the little bit of extra eccentricity, if you will, in the delivery of the song, as well as a uniquely smooth but raspy singing voice.  That season, I kept tuning in to Idol weekly to see the talented newcomers, but most of all to hear what David Cook would do next.  His unique interpretations of Hello by Lionel Richie, The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face by Roberta Flack, Music of the Night from Phantom of the Opera, and my personal favorite, Always Be My Baby by Mariah Carey had me hooked on Cook.  When he won that season I felt that America had gotten it right.

     His self titled, first big label album is a favorite in my collection, boasting the hits Time of My Life, Light On, and Come Back to Me.  As with most albums, though, it is listening beyond the hits that brings forth the hidden jewels that hit home, especially Permanent, a ballad written for his brother, Adam, who was suffering from a brain tumor at the time of the album's release.  The poignant lyrics could have easily been written as an homage to my sister, Janet, who fought pancreatic cancer as I listened to this gem for the first time.  I was fortunate enough to share this song with her and we were both consumed by its message of hope in a hopeless situation.  No one wants to deal with the imminent loss of someone he loves so dearly.  He would take his or her place in a heartbeat to lessen the hellacious journey.  Our loved ones never leave us permanently, so we are permanent.

     Now, three years later,  there is This Loud Morning.  I have read several interviews given by Cook to magazines, like Songwriter's Universe in which he expresses the desire to let the theme of the piece be open to the interpretation of the listener.  If that isn't an invitation to pour more words into my blog, I don't know what is!  So here's my take:

     The first thing that caught my eye was the title of the first track - Circadian. I needed to look this word up because I had never heard it before.  What I found was that a synonym for circadian was cycle.  The 24 hour period that includes physical, emotional and psychological rhythms, is built upon in this record.  For me, the cycle in this song is that it is the initiation of a concept album, and if one were to look into my music listening past, there would be a collection within a collection of concept albums, from the Beatles' Abbey Road in the '60's, to Carole King's Fantasy and countless Moody Blues albums in the '70's, to the Alan Parson's Project's Eye in the Sky in the '80's,  and many more, and they are among my favorite albums of all time.  This Loud Morning continues the cycle of my being hooked on albums that tell a story into the new mellinium.  This opening song and its reprise at the end of Rapid Eye Movement, the album's final track, haunt me and put me into a melancholy, peaceful, pensive state of mind, much like Coldplay's Clocks and the Moodies' Nights in White Satin.  The day ends with questions and the promise they'll be answered, and the uncertainty is haunting, much like the echoes and harmonies I hear.

     In Right Here, With You, the cycle is the everyday challenge that can make today and tonight seem like the end of the world, and the family...the wife and children...are the constants I can depend on to stay by me until tomorrow comes. 

     My tardiness in posting a review of this album brings another cycle into focus.  As I anticipated the album's release, I was about to lose another family member.  The album was released on June 28, 2011, and my mother passed away a day later. We Believe is the Permanent of this album for me.  It's the one that hits closest to home.   The cycle here is that we can survive each heartbreaking event, though each is like hitting a wall that we can't climb for a time.  We stumble, and then believe there is hope we can continue to live and be strong enough to survive the pain, and that we're not alone.  As a statement of humanity and spirituality, the lyrics in We Believe have been comforting and profound.

     The Last Goodbye and Goodbye to the Girl are yet two more songs about the cycle of relationships that have gone extinct after having been endangered beyond rekindling.........and so it goes.

     Paper Heart is one of my favorite tracks and has one of my favorite lines on the album:  "What use is a paper heart when you're stuck in the rain."  This is so profound to me as one who feels threatened by the passage of time in every relationship.  Whether it is by relocation, hectic schedules, or even death, every relationship is fragile and rain can come without warning.  A vicious cycle........

     Each Cook track is a cycle in itself, with a beginning, middle, and end; and  remarkably personal lyrics and earnestly produced music, and the album's cycle is completed with Rapid Eye Movement and the closing plea......"May Day, Somebody save me!"

     I love this album.  It is a showcase for Cook's raspy, yet smooth voice.  Like David Cook: The Record, This Loud Morning boasts a dozen concert-ready rock anthems.  For me, there is nothing like a singer interpreting his own compositions, and I am happy that Cook co-wrote all the tracks here.  There is much talent in today's recording artists.  The trouble with the hitmakers of today is that their talent is hidden behind gimmicks, be it absurd costuming, foul language, mediocrity demanded by moguls...it's frustrating.  When an artist as articulate an thoughtful as Cook releases a recording, it deserves several cycles in the cd player or on the Ipod to absorb the haunting harmonies and learn the emotional lyrics, while appreciating the quality of the voice, which is ultimately the star of the show.

      I hope the cycle that has depreciated the quality of commercial radio broadcasting and musical taste will come around again, and that we will enjoy less gimmick and more substance.  In the meantime, I'll leave the radio off and spin this collection, and wait for the part of the cycle where I wait for a new David Cook collection to emerge.