Judith Gennett wrote this review.
Those whose ears were open to Celtic music in the ’80s will remember those wonderful Capercaillie LPs: great Scottish dance music dividing the high points of Karen Matheson‘s beautiful vocals. Some songs were traditional Gaelic, some were more contemporary — her lovely interpretation of “Both Sides Of the Tweed,” for example. Matheson continued to chug along with Capercaillie during the ’90s. Several years ago she came out with a fairly forgettable solo CD called The Dreaming Sea; forgettable not because of her wonderful voice, but because of the dull song material and overproduction. Her new album Time To Fall follows dead set behind the first, a beautiful voice singing Titanic-inspired neuvo-schmaltz.
Time To Fall is expertly overproduced with synthetic strings, tinkly piano, and other correctly swooshy noises by Capercaillie accordionist Donald Shaw. Most of the songs are written by Scottish singer-songwriter/guitarist James Grant, who largely ignores proper nouns, story lines, and historical and geographical references; most of the songs are about hope, hope of better days, hopes for loves, wishing well. They are well written, with strong hooks, and the album might be perceived as contemporary folk were it not for the arrangements. Though largely orchestrated by Capercaillie members and other folk musicians, the light jazz, the easy listening, the light rock arrangements take over and the folk, the Celtic, are just not there. There is little feel of the land, no sense of time past or tradition in these songs, just the aura of a marketing director in Glasgow who wants to relax with a martini and listen to some smooth jazz.
Points of elevation on Time To Fall include two Gaelic songs and a Burns poem. The Burns track, “Bonnie Jean,” is fairly folky and could qualify as a slow track on a Celtic album, but still there’s enough swoosh to it that you can just imagine Jean in a cocktail lounge looking for an ashtray. “An Ataireachd Ard” is a Gaelic song with the same vocals you’d hear on those albums, heavily supported by ambient keyboards, suitable for use with an IMAX documentary about flying helicopters in the Highlands. Matheson’s vocals on a traditional song, “Moch di Luan,” are just great, and there are some perky contributions from electro-bass and drums, but still, you can see those IMAX cameras rolling along the coastal points of Lewis.
Scottish music it is, a beautiful voice she has, but Celtic folk it is not. Though this album is admittedly an attempt to make Matheson more popular as a mainstream singer, I wish it were a better vehicle to carry her voice.
(Vertical/Sanctuary, 2002)
