NEW ZEALAND LISTENER REVIEW

September 7, 2002

Copyright İ 2002 Nick Bollinger. All rights reserved. Reprinted by permission of author.

IMAGINE, Eva Cassidy (Blix Street) Reviewed by Nick Bollinger If youıre the kind who routinely cries at the movies then Eva Cassidyıs music was made for you, whether or not you know the tragic details of her short life. For those who havenıt heard the story, Eva Cassidy grew up in Washington DC, a tiny woman with a massive voice which stunned anyone who came within its range. And yet when she died of cancer in 1996 aged just 33, she was still virtually unknown outside her hometown, and even there she was a cultish figure, still playing the smaller clubs. Posthumously she has been recognised for the diva she was, a natural genre-bender that could turn folk songs into jazz standards and vice versa; who could rise from a girlish whisper to a gospel wail in the space of a bar. Now there have been biographies, television documentaries and best-selling compilations. In New Zealand alone her recordings (primarily the Songbird album, a posthumous collection culled from the three discs she made during her lifetime) have notched sales in excess of 40,000 ­ extraordinary given that these have all been through a small indie, with a fraction of a major labelıs promotional budget. And now thereıs a new album. Imagine was pieced together from demos, live recordings and studio leftovers from between 1987 and 96, and it makes as convincing an argument for Cassidyıs greatness as any of the recordings released in her lifetime; more convincing in some ways, because these recordings were never intended for release and yet they transcend any of their imperfections; the caberetish backing of her occasional band or the odd technical glitch. Is it morbid anthologists or was there some prescience in Cassidyıs choice of repertoire? Imagineıs tracklist (like that of Songbird) is filled with intimations of mortality, from a soulful reading of the late Sandy Dennyıs fatalist ballad "Who Knows Where the Time Goes?" all the way to "Danny Boy". Her ease with the jazz repertoire is summed up in her reading of "Youıve Changed", which again evokes the specter of death, if only for its reminder of Billie Holidayıs definitive, defeated version. The title track is perhaps the one moment where Cassidy overdoes things, her florid embellishments pushing John Lennonıs utopian daydream into portentousness. But thatıs more than made up for by the stunning opener, "It Doesnıt Matter Anymore", the Paul Anka tune that became Buddy Hollyıs swansong. Transposing a guitar lick from "Gentle On My Mind" (and, among other things, this album is a showcase for Cassidy excellent fingerpicking), she finds all the doom and sadness concealed in this piece of Tin Pan Alley, and delivers it with perfect grace. If this doesnıt get you, then no Hollywood weepie ever will.

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