So picture this: you're a renowned and accomplished songwriter. Somehow, over the years, commercial success has eluded you, but critical acclaim certainly hasn't-- every publication from Magnet to NME has taken time out of their day to tell people you're great at what you do. After seven fine albums with your band American Music Club (and five great solo records), you're getting ready to cut your next album.
And you record ten songs written by other people. Why? Who knows-- maybe you just need a break from your own material and your own life for a while. Or you want to pay tribute to some people who inspired you over the years. Whatever the reason, abandoning your main strength when you go in to record is a pretty risky proposition.
Mark Eitzel is well known for his deeply personal songwriting, and with good reason. He's a master of drawing out his own anguish and suffering and putting it in terms you can relate to as a listener, and he's always managed to find the right musical backdrop for his confessionals, whether working with American Music Club or on his own. But on this record, you get to hear him tackling Culture Club, Curtis Mayfield, Phil Ochs, Bill Withers and others, with varying degrees of success. Is that a smile I see in the photo on the back of the booklet? What's going on here?
Well, listening to it, one of the first things that's apparent is that Eitzel isn't willing to alter his approach to accommodate his subject matter-- whether he's taking on an old John Hartford chestnut or a demanding melody like Curtis Mayfield's "Move on Up," he keeps things firmly within his range. Of course, there's a reason Eitzel is usually noted for his songwriting and not his singing-- his deep, breathy baritone is a limited instrument, but he manages to get a lot of mileage out of it, and Music for Courage & Confidence is no exception. The album sees Eitzel backed by a conspicuously high-calibre cadre of backing musicians, from Ryan Adams producer Ethan Johns to bigshot drummers Joey Waronker and Larry Mullins, though nicely, they all manage to stay out of the spotlight, allowing Eitzel to remain the center of attention.
On Eitzel's last outing, 2001's outstanding The Invisible Man, he experimented with more electronic textures and indulged the part of him that liked to listen to Kraftwerk when he was younger, in the process creating what may be his best solo outing yet. There are hints of that direction on this album as well, as Eitzel and producers Brian Paulson and Johan Kugelberg brought in Napoleon Hill to craft backgrounds for three tracks here. The result is an icy take on Culture Club's "Do You Really Want to Hurt Me?" that reveals a dark undercurrent you might have missed in the original, as well as interesting versions of the Flamingoes' "I Only Have Eyes for You," and strangely, Andrea True's 1976 disco smash "More, More, More." "I Only Have Eyes for You" is surprisingly well-served by the wobbly soundscape and rough acoustic guitar treatment it's given here. "More, More, More" chugs and burbles, overflowing with programmed hi-hat and sampled guitar noise, cut through with brief, rhythmless ambient interjections-- a far cry from the original.
Elsewhere, it sounds like Eitzel and his crew had some genuine fun making this record, as evidenced by the amusing, almost Zappa-esque monologue he uses to cap off Kris Kristofferson's "Help Me Make It Through the Night." Bill Withers' "Ain't No Sunshine" seems an especially apropos selection for the perennially gloomy Eitzel, and he handles it beautifully, making it one of the most faithful covers on the album. Marc Capelle's funky Wurlitzer fills the room with smoke while Mullins' tight drumming keeps the tension high during the song's quieter moments.
Perhaps the album's finest track is also its most upbeat-- an effervescent, spirited take on John Hartford's "Gentle on My Mind" (some of you might be familiar with Glen Campbell's version). A Latin feel, oddball keyboards and Justin Meldal-Johnson's melodic bass transport you briefly to some quasi-Lynchian lounge. Almost as good is the quick-paced and surprisingly faithful version of Mayfield's "Move on Up," which finds Eitzel singing parts he never seemed capable of before, bringing the whole affair down about two octaves. It's hardly better than the incredible original, but it's certainly a worthy tribute if there ever was one.
The album closes with a weird, whispery cover of the Fain/Kahal classic "I'll Be Seeing You." Eitzel's baritone scrapes at the bottom of its range, reduced to an odd whisper as he sings the lines "I'll be seeing you/ In all the old familiar places." It's actually quite compelling-- kind of like parting with a close friend and just hoping you'll see them again soon. And of course, I do hope to be seeing Eitzel again soon, though next time it'd be nice if he'd bring some of his own songs to the table. For now, this covers record is a charming enough document that fans will almost certainly find worthwhile.
