Lucinda Williams
West

I fell in love with Lucinda Williams' voice a few years ago when I almost accidentally heard her bitter and beautiful album titled "Essence". A handful of autobiographical, soulful, emotional, seductive songs dedicated to the theme of losing love.

"To whom does this splendid voice belong that tells life in such a poignant way?" I wondered. I then discovered that Lucinda was an American singer-songwriter with a thousand experiences behind her and half a dozen country-rock albums, recorded in just under three decades of her career. I also found out that during that considerable span of time, she had absorbed the dust of the road, collected disappointments, and written songs, though not always in that order. But beyond the biographical data, what I remember most is the fact that I just couldn’t take her CD out of the player, and her melodies resonated in my head for days, accompanying me at every moment from dawn to dusk. The charm of her simple and sincere ballads, alternating between delicacy and roughness, was irresistible to me. Her melancholic and intense voice seemed to truly come from the depths of her heart, managing to dig deep within you with surprising ease. And even though her music followed the path of the American country-rock tradition, Lucinda always managed to interpret it with her own original, unmistakable touch that could not leave anyone indifferent. Since then, I slowly worked my way back through her musical history, discovering extraordinary albums like "Car Wheels On A Gravel Road" from 1998, and I've never missed a single release, which, through its highs and lows, always confirmed the fundamental qualities of her music: warm, intimate, bittersweet, and sensual.

My expectations for her latest studio work - just released by "Lost Highway Records" - were, therefore, extremely high, and as often happens in these cases, I feared being disappointed upon listening. Instead, the listening experience does not disappoint at all, quite the opposite… "West" confirms Williams' compositional verve and is truly a beautiful album, of rare depth, capable of fully revealing the heart of this woman, who doesn’t hide but instead gives of herself generously without fear, evoking her travels, her dramas, her life. Contrasting chiaroscuro emotions emerge through languid ballads ("Are You Alright?"), desperate ("Fancy Funeral"), and restless ("Learning How To Live"), which are contrasted with abrasive ("Unsuffer Me") and dragging songs ("Wrap My Head Around That").
In every passage, her voice is a certainty: vibrant and intense as always, shunning banality and choosing simplicity. Direct, engaging, and involved, she gradually introduces us to a rich and elaborate musical context, also thanks to the skillful production of Hal Wilner. Thus, the musical architecture predominantly centers around the acoustic guitar, with happy infusions of strings, accordion, Hammond, Wurlitzer here and there. And, of course, there is the electric guitar, which, depending on the register, takes on varying attires. There’s the unmistakable, refined, and elegant guitar of the great Bill Frisell, which is a true pleasure to hear in duet with Lucinda’s lamenting voice. But when the lament takes on the contours of anger, the sound of the guitar changes too ("Come on"), in those cases entrusted to Doug Pettibone, who is more incisive, robust, and powerful to emphasize the strength of the song. It then brings to mind some old tracks by a vintage Neil Young.

But beyond any uncertain comparison, what strikes about this musician is her feminine passion, which combined with torment translates into music. This is the essence of the beauty and allure of these thirteen songs, which thus make up not just an album, but the life itself of Lucinda.