Diamanda Galas
The Singer

THE REVIEW

A covers album is a classic for (almost) all already established artists. A wildly unconventional soprano like Diamanda Galas might seem to have more roots in the experiments of Karlheinz Stockhausen or jazz pianist Cecil Taylor rather than in unrefined performers like Screamin' Jay Hawkins and Howlin' Wolf, who probably ignored the atonal system or electronic music. But Galas manages to win over the listener even when tackling genres like blues and gospel, by reinterpreting them in an absolutely personal way—an experiment she would repeat multiple times in her career.
At first glance, there are some reminiscences from past works: compared to the version of Plague Mass, Let My People Go is not very different, but Were You There When They Crucified My Lord? is indeed another piece.

The songs are almost all recorded live, capturing all the improvisations and the interpreter’s heartbeats, a talented pianist. Accompanied only by a piano, as gloomy as her voice on this record, Galas embarks on relentless tour de force, moving from Willie Dixon’s My Love Will Never Die and Insane Asylum to Hawkins’ classic I Put A Spell On You, through traditional chants like See That My Grave Is Kept Clean.
Perhaps even Lydia Lunch or Billie Holiday would admit, Gloomy Sunday, in Galas' mouth is a masterpiece, the perfection between the jazz of the new continent and Mediterranean tradition.

The tracks, however, seem more focused on themselves than anything else, and the listening experience suffers, often losing the atmosphere in several passages. For example, a third version of Let My People Go—in this album—is quite debatable, especially because it offers nothing new compared to its predecessors.
Nevertheless, The Singer, along with You Must Be Certain Of The Devil, is certainly one of her most accessible records, but the attempt to close the wound—apparently healed—with Plague Mass proves futile: what Galas sings, even if written 10 or 50 years ago, continues to be an exorcism of pain in its most concrete and human form.

What certainly distinguishes her from all the avant-garde artists of the twentieth century (like Meredith Monk or Joan Labarbara) is the psychological introspection she applies to each of her works, profound and inescapable.
There's just one last favor I'll ask of you
You can see that my grave is kept clean.
The organ and filtered voice, on the ninth track, take the album into the night, into a shapeless darkness without stars, finding a way out only on Judgment Day:
Judgement Day