I recently experienced a first for me as a parent. When Paula
Cole burst forth onto AOR radio with her hot “Where Have All The
Cowboys Gone?” my daughter, who was then all of 12 months old,
would start bopping back and forth in her car seat or highchair to
the rhythm. When she figured out the mechanics of standing, she
would sway – and eventually fall – pretty close to the tempo of the
song. I ended up going out and buying her the CD single for her
first birthday.
If only the rest of her second album
This Fire was as solid. There are some excellent moments on
this one, but for the most part, Cole wanders somewhat aimlessly in
a haze of frustration, freedom and anger.
While it has been overplayed to death on the radio, there is no
denying that “Where Have All The Cowboys Gone?” is an excellent
song. The main character’s thoughts flow from when she first met
the man of her dreams who would sweep her off her feet to today –
where the only sweeping being done is the kitchen floor by her. Her
“John Wayne,” meanwhile, spends more time with his cronies than
with her. Ka-pow.
Cole – who reminds me a lot of Tori Amos, without the weirdness
and with even more hystrionics – seems to write a lot about
frustrations women feel from leering and sexual innuendoes (“No
more sex-starved teachers trying to touch my ass” from “Tiger”) to
societal views of a strong-minded and strong-willed woman (“Call me
a bitch in heat” from “Throwing Stones”), this album is an
emotional purge for Cole. She seems to want to express her
individuality and her freedom to be a woman of the ’90s – which
could also explain the reason she maintains the disgusting habit of
not shaving her underarms. (Four words:
shave yer fuckin’ pits! It wasn’t attractive with Patti
Smyth, either.)
The most recent single, “I Don’t Want To Wait,” shows off the
range of Cole’s vocals even better than her first hit, and seems to
justify the success she’s had so far. Even the track “Hush, Hush,
Hush,” featuring Peter Gabriel, blew me away when I first heard it
on my daughter’s CD single.
And while Cole’s musicianship is by no means in question – she
is a much more controlled pianist than Amos, and she plays a much
wider variety of instruments – her songwriting still leaves quite a
bit to be desired. Songs like “Me” shine, while others like
“Carmen” and “Mississippi” fail to catch my interest.
Another disturbing feature is Cole’s use – or, should I say,
misuse – of vocals, namely the orgasmic-cum-primitive groans and
growls passing for vocals on tracks like “Tiger” and “Nietzche’s
Eyes.” Even my wife cringed from time to time.
Some of my readers may argue that I will never be qualified to
review this one or to understand it, for the simple reason that I
posess a penis. I can hear them now: “You’ll never understand it,
’cause you’re a man.” Possibly – but let me argue that I found
“Where Have All The Cowboys Gone?” to be a very poignant work, and
even made me wonder if I was spending enough time with the missus.
Still, I admit there may be some merit to that argument.
And it’s not that I thought
This Fire was a terrible album. I’ve listened to it five
times in the last week – three times in the day that I wrote this
review – and it failed to capture my interest enough (save for a
few songs) to rank as a great effort. It’s passable, though it does
get a little better with repeated listens.
There’s no doubt that Cole has earned her moment in the
spotlight – and if Amos continues to decline as she has her last
two albums, she could become the next leader of the acoustic “grrl”
movement. I just wish that there was a little more than three songs
to recommend on
This Fire to justify buying it.
