Bettye Lavette
I've Got My Own Hell To Raise

THE REVIEW

I was crazily yearning for an album like this, but I only realized it when I started listening to it. A voice black, black, black, black, black in splendid solitude immediately opened a breach in my chest, insinuating itself within me and unveiling a world of passions that inevitably won me over. And now I can't do without it. I know I have tons of records waiting. But I equally know they will wait, oh, they will wait, because these barely 40 minutes of music won't leave my player anytime soon. Yes... because, even if I didn't know it, I was madly longing for music with the rhythm of the blood, narrated by some essential guitars that frame an immense soul voice, able to hit the mark without indulging in unnecessary embellishments. A voice so beautiful it can give you unbelievable, unforgettable chills. A deep and rough voice that indeed recalls great names of the past, from the magnificence of Aretha Franklin to the anguish of Janis Joplin, yet still manages not to become something tediously standardized, always maintaining peculiar and original traits.

After all, Ms. Lavette is not a young girl; she's almost sixty, and she's not even the last one to arrive. In fact, despite having been forgotten for a long time by a short-sighted music industry, this incredible singer from Detroit in the '60s performed with people like James Brown. Then came the darkness, the long silence, from which she was fully liberated three years ago with the album "A Woman Like Me," and now she renews her luminous presence in this paper mache world with a real and unforgettable album, which undoubtedly ranks as one of the most beautiful of this 2005. So beautiful it makes me wonder "how long has it been since I last listened to an album like this?" Come to think of it, I don't even remember. Surely a lot of interesting music has passed through my hands recently, but I hadn't recalled an album of such emotional intensity for a long time. This work has something more: it has a deep, black soul that shakes you inside. And it is wrapped in a cloak of simple sounds that seem to come directly from the '60s: acoustic and electric guitars, Wurlitzer piano, organ, a deep bass, drums. Few adornments, if any, are needed. This reveals producer Joe Henry's capability, who has made musical refinement his life's manifesto, and the intelligence of the record label Anti records, which for some time has been characterized by choices of crystal-clear class. In addition, we have a very special repertoire of covers, all female. From Lucinda Williams to Dolly Parton, passing through Sinead O'Connor, Joan Armatrading, Aimee Mann, and Fiona Apple. Women in music, all beautifully devoured and transfigured by the soul of this incredible interpreter who, from start to finish, leaves the listener with vibrant soul, blues, funky, R&B shivers, translating feelings like pain, love, anger, suffering. Ancient sounds, just freshly repainted to appear brand new, able to magically sweep away all the trendy and plastic trash you hear around.

An immense album, a little miracle, a magnificent surprise that shook my beautifully archived 2005, mentally shelved too soon. With Bettye's appearance, everything is different. Not an advice, but an imperative: get it, lock yourself at home, and listen to it. It will change you.