Reissue CDs Weekly: Karen Black - Dreaming Of You (1971-1976) | reviews, news & interviews Reissue CDs Weekly: Karen Black - Dreaming Of You (1971-1976)
Reissue CDs Weekly: Karen Black - Dreaming Of You (1971-1976)
Marvellous collection of the actor’s previously unknown recordings
by Kieron TylerSunday, 18 July 2021
Karen Black’s connection with music was never hidden. In Robert Altman’s 1975 film
Nashville she played a country singer. In 1970’s
Five Easy Pieces she was a would-be country singer. In
Nashville, two of the songs she sang were self-penned. She also dueted with Kris Kristofferson in 1972’s
Cisco Pike.
Hollywood logic usually dictates that an actor with musical inclinations – however shaky – issues a record. Hence releases by William Shatner, Leonard Nimoy, Peggy Lipton, Annette Funicello and a million more. Yet nothing from the evidently musically capable Karen Black. (In 1965, there had been one single: a stage play s
The Story Behind Cult Actor Karen Black s Posthumous Country-Pop Album
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Same God
Tells the tide when it should rise
Put the color in my eyes
The same God who makes the seasons change
Knows the number of the stars
Every secret in my heart
All my doubts, all my questions
In every fear I have about what might happen
You’re the same God
You’re with me in the middle of it all, God
You’re catching every tear as it falls I know
You’ll never change Even when I’m feeling far away
You love me the same, God
You love me the same, God
You love me the same, God
It Doesn’t Matter What We Meant and Evie Christie’s
Mere Extinction are the latest contributions to a genre I’m calling GTA pastoral. Each offers lyric meditations on a gritty urban present populated by, in Christie’s words, “bare-knuckled bankers of King Street” and “meat-eating Annex Vegans” alongside nostalgia for a suburban past, filtered through a 21st-century middle-class outlook, in which as Winger puts it, “We can’t really move back / to the last subway station, can we?” Both collections demonstrate the enduring tenacity of the free-verse lyric as the default poetic frame for contemporary experience. While Christie’s book presents these lyrics as discrete events in an ongoing pattern of reflections on motherhood, love, crisis, and poetry itself, in Winger’s collection, these lyrics accumulate at times into longer sequences that pose the challenge of conceiving human existence on a cosmic scale, in which “all the radio signals / we’ve ever heard
It Doesn’t Matter What We Meant and Evie Christie’s
Mere Extinction are the latest contributions to a genre I’m calling GTA pastoral. Each offers lyric meditations on a gritty urban present populated by, in Christie’s words, “bare-knuckled bankers of King Street” and “meat-eating Annex Vegans” alongside nostalgia for a suburban past, filtered through a 21st-century middle-class outlook, in which as Winger puts it, “We can’t really move back / to the last subway station, can we?” Both collections demonstrate the enduring tenacity of the free-verse lyric as the default poetic frame for contemporary experience. While Christie’s book presents these lyrics as discrete events in an ongoing pattern of reflections on motherhood, love, crisis, and poetry itself, in Winger’s collection, these lyrics accumulate at times into longer sequences that pose the challenge of conceiving human existence on a cosmic scale, in which “all the radio signals / we’ve ever heard
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