An album that grows out of an increasingly haunted sense of life's transitory nature and the sadness of 9/11 - it doesn't at first blush sound inviting but don't be put off.
Between Here And Gone is a masterpiece.
Mary Chapin Carpenter combines lyrical grace with musical depth to fashion a powerful statement that invites repeated listens. You won't ever tire of this album.
It begins with a couple of lighter-weight tracks,
What would you say to me? and
Luna's Gone. But far from being filler, they ease you into the album's depths slowly. What follows is a musical version of
Alice Sebold's vision of heaven in her novel
The Lovely Bones. MCC doesn't quite capture the colourless disappointment of the novel but there's something bubbling under the surface of
My Heaven that will be exposed in the album's core.
And that core is a trio of songs that, in a Simon-esque way (albeit not musically), reflect the life and times of the USA in the early 21st century.
Goodnight America,
Between Here & Gone and
Grand Central Station are songs of weight, depth and a certain majesty. Deep questions, open fears and choking longings are foregrounded for all to see and feel. The dream is breaking apart; souls are passing through, barely felt. And sweat and tears are not enough to redeem the suffering of 9/11, despite the (rightly) celebrated bravery.
'The key to travelling light is to not need very much' she sings in
One Small Heart, a brooding piece on the search for freedom, taking the open road. You can sense the splintered heart behind the wheel. A more sinister heart is exposed on
The Shelter Of Storms, where the bitter end of human perversity is only unremitting, unexplained sadness.
Of course, this being MCC, there's a song about
Girls Like Me, who don't fit, live alone, like a cold beer, aren't what most men are looking for (more fool them). But this time there's a happy ending:
Elysium is a celebration of love-at-last and is a joyous end to a solemn yet tender album.
And I know I haven't begun to do it justice.
