You watched me walking in; I know you did
viper’s glance like I’ve never seen, taking me in
Like a vessel, like a parcel, like a package, like a dream.
Did you notice, oh, I wonder: our meaning didn’t correspond, and I
Wasn’t looking back the way you looked at me.
I wonder just which part of me you think you want
to get to know.
I hope you realize it doesn’t work that way;
That’s not how it’s supposed to go.
You can’t make a pretty cross section,
tear it out, and leave the rest behind,
so it won’t be so scary if you change your mind.You see somebody under glass, under makeup, under fantasy,
and it’s the lazy way to think ‘oh, this time I’ve found the one for me.’
Because faery glamour fades
with dirty socks, compromise, and rent to pay
So I think you’d best step away.
The truth might be too much for you,
so don’t tell me you can take it.
Look before you leap, my friend.
There’s a lot here to set straight.
It only gets better.
— from ‘Cross Section’
I discovered S.J. “Sooj” Tucker at a show she opened in Portland Oregon. In my review of that show I described her as ‘a singer/songwriter from Memphis with a talent for lyrics, a mastery of the guitar, and a big bluesy voice that took all of 3 seconds to take control of the crowd. In a verse she had my full attention, by the end of her first song I was in awe, by the end of her set I was an unashamed fangirl. Tucker has a voice in a million: powerful, hypnotic, untamed and yet utterly controlled. She sings from the gut, but hers is a trained instrument.’
If I thought I had her pegged after seeing her live, I was doubly impressed by the CD I picked up that night. Haphazard is an exciting piece of work from an exciting singer: pagan/blues/folk rock full of fire.
The CD opens with the song quoted above, sung a capella, and if this doesn’t grab the listener’s attention there’s no point in going further; just go buy some Britney Spears and have a nice Diet Coke. This song indeed comes from the gut, snaking out from the speakers to coil around the audience and take control. This is bluesy, whiskey music.
‘Face Down’ comes next, a song she calls her ‘bitching about Memphis song’, with Sooj on the guitar and her pretty soprano beginning more gently, more quietly . . . and then there it is again, that power. And the power in her voice is the common theme throughout this album, because there isn’t a weak track here.
I really ought to mention the fact that unlike many bluesy singers, Tucker enunciates. You can understand every blessed word, a major benefit considering her lyrics are smart, fun, and sometimes complicated.
She writes pagan verses, but there’s nothing pink and fluffy here, nor anything needlessly dark — she’s neither New Age nor Goth. In ‘Crystal Cave’ she writes about the inner journey (‘So what if the story takes you to where the river’s dressed in black? / The Ferryman will know you by the Reaper on your back. / The way will open for you like the drawbridge of a castle. / Wild times ahead before you find Merlin’s Cave of Crystal.’)
In ‘Stickit’ she admonishes a lover (‘Now, I wish I knew the language of guitar strings about to break. / That way, there’d be no faltering. You could tell it by the noise I’d make. / There are no pretty words to say, ‘you are f*cking up real bad!’ / So I’m left with the choice of aiming everything I’ve got right at your head.’)
‘Follow Me Down’, according to her Web site the first true song she felt she had written (and she wrote it at age 15), is haunting and evocative both in lyric and tune:
I’ve been counting crows again
and no one wants my name
The blue motel goes ghostly as she fades
into the gray of the Saturday rain
I’m a war zone —
If you lose me, you can find me,
I’ll be dancing down the shingles.
My rooftop’s always free from prying eyes
And the leaves will collect your little white lies my friend
So follow me down the river
with no shame
Follow Me Down.
Musically Haphazard is simple, according to the credits: music, lyrics, vocals, guitars, bass, and percussion by S.J. Tucker; congas and little djembe by Jay “Trainwreck” Timbs. Backup vocals by The Ragged Rabble Chorus. That’s it. Reading the liner notes might fool the first time listener into expecting something light and amateurish. That, of course, will be when the Gods of Music start giggling. . . .
Tucker lists Tori Amos and Ani DiFranco among her influences, and has been compared to both. Fans of Amos, DiFranco and their ilk should love Haphazard. I’m not a fan of either, so I’ll say this: when I listen to Sooj Tucker, I don’t hear Tori or Ani. I hear shades of Bessie, Aretha, Janis, Bette — strong women with potent personalities and dynamic voices who shaped both the music and the audience at their whim.
It’s a pretty safe bet that almost everyone I know will be getting Haphazard for Christmas, Solstice, or Hanukkah this year. Ten years down the road, I expect this will be a collector’s item for Tucker fans, and I’ll be one of the lucky few with a copy of the original release. You might want to get your copy while you can, too . . . this isn’t one you’ll want to miss.
(S.J. Tucker, 2004)
