These days Neko Case doesn’t do interviews. There are no
questions from stammering fanboy journalists about working with AC
Newman, her vivid songwriting flair, or—god forbid—that
awkward “Sexiest Babe of Indie Rock” title hoisted upon her by
Playboy. Instead, Case has reached that glorious plateau of
artistic comfort where the long and winding road she has traveled as a
musician—from the bubbly, adorable twee of Cub, to cementing her
place as quite possibly the finest singer this side of the Coal Miner’s
Daughter—lends itself to a career without comprise.
Solo studio recording number five, Middle Cyclone, exhibits
Case in full stride, gracefully extending the sullen foundation
established in 2006’s cripplingly sad Fox Confessor Brings the
Flood. Giving up the alt-country ghost, Case adopts an
idiosyncratic lyrical approach to Middle Cyclone, penning songs
that circle around literal (and metaphorical) cyclones and tornados,
the animal kingdom, and an expected dose of gloomy regret to top it all
off.
The storms of nature and love are nothing new, but when Case sings
about nature, it’s heartbreakingly sad. Her songs are a parahuman
clasping of animals and people interacting on a level plane; one where
killer whales are apologetic for following their genetic arc and
chomping off a swimmer’s legs (“I’m a man man man, man man man eater.
But still you’re surprised when I eat you”) and an isolated tiger is
driven to madness on the losing end of a chain (from the title track of
2004’s live EP, The Tigers Have Spoken). One of Middle
Cyclone‘s finer moments, is the stern finger-waving cover of
glam-pop band Sparks’ “Never Turn Your Back on Mother Earth.” Case’s
take on the song is stunningly gorgeous, a stern environmental scolding
in the form of a bubbly Spector girl-group pop number. Plus, if it
convinces future generations that there is more to the name Sparks than
a fantastic/terrible alcoholic drink, then consider Case’s version to
be a complete and total success.
Case offers just enough to placate her devoted listeners before she
ends Middle Cyclone not with a bang, or even a whimper, but with
a chirp. Thousands of them. Over a half-hour of chirping frogs (Spring
Peepers, if you are keeping track on your amphibian scorecard at home)
closes out the record, gracefully pulling the shades on this offering
and proving that to Neko Case, there are more important things in this
world than music.