Artist: PJ Harvey & John Parish
Album: A Woman A Man Walked By
Year: 2009
Grade: 5 pretzels
There’s no reason I should be surprised by the quality of this record. On one hand, you’ve got PJ Harvey, possibly my favorite female singer ever. On the other, you’ve got John Parish, the producer behind my favorite PJ Harvey album, To Bring You My Love. These two have proven they can work together to create incredible music. However, even knowing all that, nothing could really prepare me for the jaw-dropping album they’ve delivered this year. A Woman A Man Walked By is an astonishing collection of psychosis put on tape, a feverish nightmare of psychosexual drama and confusion.
PJ Harvey scared many, including myself, by releasing White Chalk in 2007. That album was incredibly stark and unusual, even by Harvey’s standards. Abandoning the visceral guitar punch of her previous work, almost all the songs were centered around the piano. Her voice also went through a strange transformation, changing from a ragged, powerful holler into a thin, eerie soprano. These changes seemed jarring and out of character for Harvey, who’s forceful persona has always been integral to her appeal. White Chalk was certainly an intriguing album, but ultimately, I found it too much of a change from PJ Harvey’s previous work to really accept it.
The fingerprints of White Chalk are all over A Woman A Man Walked By, particularly in the uneasy vocals of “Leaving California”. However, they are balanced out by John Parish’s earthy music. The division of labor on the album is very clear: Parish writes all the songs, Harvey writes all the lyrics. This combination works to tremendous effect, creating twisted folk tunes to anchor Harvey’s dramatic vocal style. For example, the eviscerated banjo-blues of “Sixteen, Fifteen, Fourteen” is the perfect complement to Harvey’s yelping performance, which gradually spirals out of control until the song collapses, literally gasping for breath.
Not unlike Portishead’s Third from last year, A Woman A Man Walked By is a completely uneasy record. However, where Portishead created an atmosphere of crushing claustrophobia, Harvey and Parish aim for the opposite end of the spectrum, evoking the eeriness of too much space. There’s something very pastoral running through this album. If the album smelled like something, it would be the sickeningly sweet aroma of every flower in spring blooming at once. On songs like “The Chair”, Harvey seems to be running through emptiness, searching for things that are missing. It’s a very interesting way to present music this unstable and paranoid.
As always, Harvey showcases her incredible range of vocal possibilities over the course of the album. Calmer numbers like “The Soldier” have her almost whispering over Parish’s gentle mandolin backdrop. That song is immediately followed by “Pig Will Not”, a vocal-chord-ripping guitar cruncher which Harvey intones in a grating, low voice. The album tends to switch back and forth between extremes, never letting you rest until the last notes have faded away. Strongest of all is the opener, “Black Hearted Love”, which is the rock anthem many fans have wanted from PJ Harvey over the last few years. Between Parish’s paint-peeling guitar riff and Harvey’s emotional performance, it more than delivers.
A Woman A Man Walked By is a difficult album to approach. You have to have a certain tolerance for music that makes you feel uncomfortable. The queasiness of songs like “April” or the title track, featuring Harvey screaming “I want your fucking ass” quickly gets under your skin. I can totally understand how this isn’t going to be everyone’s cup of tea. All I know is that this album panders towards my musical tastes. It’s sickly, disturbed music, visiting the darker corners of the human psyche that people would rather just hide from. Ever the extremist, PJ Harvey seems perfectly at home working there.
PJ Harvey scared many, including myself, by releasing White Chalk in 2007. That album was incredibly stark and unusual, even by Harvey’s standards. Abandoning the visceral guitar punch of her previous work, almost all the songs were centered around the piano. Her voice also went through a strange transformation, changing from a ragged, powerful holler into a thin, eerie soprano. These changes seemed jarring and out of character for Harvey, who’s forceful persona has always been integral to her appeal. White Chalk was certainly an intriguing album, but ultimately, I found it too much of a change from PJ Harvey’s previous work to really accept it.
The fingerprints of White Chalk are all over A Woman A Man Walked By, particularly in the uneasy vocals of “Leaving California”. However, they are balanced out by John Parish’s earthy music. The division of labor on the album is very clear: Parish writes all the songs, Harvey writes all the lyrics. This combination works to tremendous effect, creating twisted folk tunes to anchor Harvey’s dramatic vocal style. For example, the eviscerated banjo-blues of “Sixteen, Fifteen, Fourteen” is the perfect complement to Harvey’s yelping performance, which gradually spirals out of control until the song collapses, literally gasping for breath.
Not unlike Portishead’s Third from last year, A Woman A Man Walked By is a completely uneasy record. However, where Portishead created an atmosphere of crushing claustrophobia, Harvey and Parish aim for the opposite end of the spectrum, evoking the eeriness of too much space. There’s something very pastoral running through this album. If the album smelled like something, it would be the sickeningly sweet aroma of every flower in spring blooming at once. On songs like “The Chair”, Harvey seems to be running through emptiness, searching for things that are missing. It’s a very interesting way to present music this unstable and paranoid.
As always, Harvey showcases her incredible range of vocal possibilities over the course of the album. Calmer numbers like “The Soldier” have her almost whispering over Parish’s gentle mandolin backdrop. That song is immediately followed by “Pig Will Not”, a vocal-chord-ripping guitar cruncher which Harvey intones in a grating, low voice. The album tends to switch back and forth between extremes, never letting you rest until the last notes have faded away. Strongest of all is the opener, “Black Hearted Love”, which is the rock anthem many fans have wanted from PJ Harvey over the last few years. Between Parish’s paint-peeling guitar riff and Harvey’s emotional performance, it more than delivers.
A Woman A Man Walked By is a difficult album to approach. You have to have a certain tolerance for music that makes you feel uncomfortable. The queasiness of songs like “April” or the title track, featuring Harvey screaming “I want your fucking ass” quickly gets under your skin. I can totally understand how this isn’t going to be everyone’s cup of tea. All I know is that this album panders towards my musical tastes. It’s sickly, disturbed music, visiting the darker corners of the human psyche that people would rather just hide from. Ever the extremist, PJ Harvey seems perfectly at home working there.
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