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Bonnie Raitt extends the boundaries of her signature sound with ‘Just Like That’

on May 2, 2022 No comments
by Ken Tucker

More than 50 years after the release of her first album, Raitt’s voice remains a subtle instrument: earthy with an ache around the edges. Its sly intimacy is, as always, a deep pleasure.

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Transcript

DAVE DAVIES, HOST:

This is FRESH AIR. Bonnie Raitt has just released her first album in over six years. It’s called “Just Like That” and finds her working in a variety of genres, including the blues, reggae, rock and funk. In April, Raitt was honored with a lifetime achievement award at the Grammys, but rock critic Ken Tucker says her creative lifetime has been revitalized and extended by this highly eclectic new album.

(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, “MADE UP MIND”)

BONNIE RAITT: (Singing) It starts out slow. Go ahead and go. Pretty soon the melody is like a rainstorm tin-roof symphony. But it starts out slow.

KEN TUCKER, BYLINE: One thing that strikes you immediately upon listening to this album, “Just Like That,” is that this is Bonnie Raitt stretching out, extending the boundaries of her signature sound. Listen to her cover of a Toots and the Maytals song, “Love So Strong,” a sturdy chunk of reggae that she’d planned to sing as a duet with her friend Toots Hibbert, but he died before that could happen, in 2020. In the middle of the song, she takes a slide guitar solo that is fleet and fluid, winding around the beat and the clattering drums of Ricky Fataar.

(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, “LOVE SO STRONG”)

RAITT: (Singing) I said my love is so strong, and my mind is unchangeable. You take a look at my face. You will see that my future’s still bright, oh, bright as the sun and the sky now, honey. You’re sure to see me shine, shine as the stars in the morning that brighten up the sky.

TUCKER: With the exception of the early ’90s, when the startling commercial success of her album “Nick Of Time” made her briefly ubiquitous, Raitt has always been more of what they used to call a journeyman than either a cult item or a star. Despite all that nice late-career recognition such as her recent lifetime achievement Grammy, to call Raitt an icon ignores the fact that she’s never wanted to be worshipped. Her voice remains a subtle instrument, earthy with an ache around the edges, its smoothness textured by a fine grittiness. Its sly intimacy is, as always, a deep pleasure.

(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, “SOMETHING’S GOT A HOLD OF MY HEART”)

RAITT: (Singing) No one drive me crazy like the crazy you drive me. Blast off planet Venus. Ain’t no use to revive me. And I know just what I want to do and when I want to do it. Never knew this could feel so bad. I don’t know why I waited for the love of me. Something’s got a hold of my heart.

TUCKER: Raitt takes her sadness about people who’ve died over the past few years and transfigures that sense of loss into a roiling passion that bursts out as a rocker called “Livin’ For The Ones.”

(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, “LIVIN’ FOR THE ONES”)

RAITT: (Singing) I can barely raise my head off the pillow. Some days I never get out of bed. I start out with the best of intentions and then shuck it instead. Don’t think we’ll get back how we use to. No use in tryin’ to measure the loss. We better start gettin’ used to it and damn the cost. Go ahead and ask me how I make it through. The only way I know is keep livin’ for the ones, ones who didn’t make it.

TUCKER: Raitt wrote the bittersweet lyrics to “Livin’ For The Ones” and this album is unusual for having four songs written by Raitt, who spent most of her career interpreting other writers’ songs. She said in recent interviews that she was partially inspired to write after thinking deeply about the death of John Prine in 2020. You can hear Prine’s influence in “Down The Hall,” in which she plucks her guitar and sings in the character of a person tending to frail patients in a hospice.

(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, “DOWN THE HALL”)

RAITT: (Singing) I had the flu in a prison infirmary. My last day, I looked up and saw a man wheeled round the corner, down to skin and bones, that’s all. I asked the nurse where he was going. She said hospice down the hall. He probably won’t be in there long. In a day, we’ll get the call. I asked if they let family in. She said not really at the end. Truth is, a lot don’t have someone, no friends or next of kin. The thought of those guys goin’ out alone…

TUCKER: That is a voice of compassion and generosity, qualities many of us encounter all too rarely these days. Bonnie Raitt has always been an intriguingly complex figure, a singer-songwriter with a social conscience who’s kept sloganeering out of her music, a lusty, salty, good time gal with the work ethic of a disciplined artist, a vocalist who treats romance and relationships as things that require patience and maturity. At the age of 72 and 50 years since the release of her first album, she’s poured a lifetime of those attributes into this new one.

(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, “BLAME IT ON ME”)

RAITT: (Singing) Blame it on me. Hold up my faults for all to see. Truth is love’s first first casualty. Blame it on me. Blame it on me. It’s not the way love’s supposed to be. How can you so casually blame it on me?

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Just Like That – Bonnie Raitt

on April 26, 2022 No comments

Folk and Tumble album reviews of the latest studio and live record releases from folk, Americana, blues, and country artists across the world.

Ringing slide guitar and soulful vocals combine on ‘Just Like That’ to make Bonnie Raitt’s new release a memorable one.

Her trademark slide guitar, which has made her the envy of players everywhere, remains a thing of joy, effortlessly on display throughout. When Bonnie chooses to rock, everyone knows it.  Bonnie has championed many writers in the past, whose work may have been passed by. The Brothers Landreth is a case in point on this offering. Bonnie stays close to the Canadian band’s original on the soul-infused ‘Made up Mind’, and yet she still stamps her own identity on it with a beautiful velvet delivery.

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‘Love So Strong’ was intended as a duet with Toots Hibbert, but sadly following his death, it’s played here as a heartfelt tribute.  ‘Something’s Got a Hold of My Heart’ by NRBQ’s Al Alderson is another ready-made standard for the seemingly ageless singer.  This time around, Bonnie has written, or co-written 4 of the 10 tracks herself, more than on any other album.

‘Livin’ For the Ones’ is co-written with her long-time guitarist George Marinelli, for the friends and family she has lost. This is a song that will connect, and resonate with so many people. Both an upbeat celebration of life, and a love song to those lost to Covid, and beyond. A song that is universal in its scope, but so personal in its interpretation for each listener. And it rocks!  ‘Down the Hall’ is a true story set in the hospice of a prison, with a prisoner caring for his dying fellow inmates with compassion and truth, a task that ultimately frees the narrator from his own bars.

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The title track concerns the impact of a heart transplant on two families, one the donor’s mother, and one the recipient. It’s a heart-wrenching story of loss and sacrifice, acceptance, and common humanity:

Just like that, your life can change…

No knife can carve away the stain, no drink can drown regret

They say Jesus brings you peace and grace, but he ain’t found me yet

One can almost hear Bonnie’s great friend, John Prine singing that last line. But there’s resolution and closure too

While I spent so long in darkness, I never thought the night would end

But somehow grace has found me, and I had to let him in.

Bonnie has spoken of the style of narrative in these songs:

“I’ve always loved the early guitar songs of Dylan, Jackson Browne, Paul Brady, and especially John Prine” she says. “With songs like ‘Angel from Montgomery’ and ‘Donald and Lydia’ John was able to just climb inside and sing these people’s deepest lives. With his passing last year, finishing these songs has meant even more.”

Bonnie hasn’t written that much over her career, which is a shame, because it is such a gift to be able to write such succinct and eloquent distillations of the human experience.

Following two years of isolation and loss of loved ones from the pandemic, and mired as the world is, at the minute in conflict and hate, Bonnie’s songs speak to the grace and humanity that the heart can aspire to. ‘Just Like That’ is an album for these times, and all time.

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Just Like That…

on April 26, 2022 No comments
By Alfred Soto

Six years since her last studio album, the veteran singer-songwriter and slide guitarist returnswith a collection of robust professional rock that may inspire deep dives into her back catalog.

If the young feel hard and forget fast, adults feel hard and remember long. To her credit, Bonnie Raitt has never courted the youth market. Avoiding disco strings and guest raps, the slide-guitar legend has amassed a body of work immersed in the blues and fully committed to the Well-Written Song; both her chosen repertoire and the material she’s penned herself adduce a belief in adulthood as a well-earned grace. Her sunny, wide-open voice and the sparkling correctness of her playing have kept bathos at bay ever since she invested Eric Kaz’s “Love Has No Pride,” one of her chestnuts, with an aw-shucks sensual abandonment: She’s in love, yet damn straight she keeps her pride.

Thirty-three years after Nick of Time, which yielded perhaps the most career-changing Grammy coronation in history, and six years since her last studio album, Dig in Deep, Raitt returns with Just Like That…, a self-produced effort boasting most of her strengths: a fidelity to the material that borders on the idolatrous, a penchant for leading mostly male pros through unfamiliar paces, and the exquisite precision of her guitar. As for weaknesses—well, she could have ventured further afield with the covers, as she did with Dig in Deep’s sly take on INXS’ “Need You Tonight.” Still, she sounds good, she plays better, and her band, co-led by longtime foil George Marinelli, simmers. A fine career summation should she choose to stop, Just Like That… is robust professional rock, a demonstration of Raitt’s vitality, like, say, Catherine Deneuve’s recent film work.

Her 18th album cedes a few of the solos she and Marinelli might have played to Glenn Patscha, a first-rate organist whose fills have the lightness of Charles Hodges. On her own “Waitin’ for You to Blow,” she lays down the guitar so Kenny Greenberg and Patscha can exchange solos over Ricky Fataar’s hi-hats. “Something’s Got a Hold of My Heart” gets a lift from Patscha’s Fender Rhodes colors, given a mixing boost by Raitt and Ryan Freeland (the funereal “Blame It on Me” is the only lapse into heavy-handedness). A chugging little thing familiar to fans of her 1973 cover of Martha and the Vandellas’ “You’ve Been in Love Too Long,” her band’s take on the Bros. Landreth’s “Made Up Mind” greases up a melody “like a rainstorm tin-roof symphony.” But they falter with a static reggae-lite version of Toots and the Maytals’ “Love So Strong”; it has a skank but not much else.

When Raitt keeps things fresh with narrative writing, the cleanness of her melodies and lyrics deepens her empathy. With the help of an acoustic lick that’s the stepchild of the Beatles’ “Blackbird ” and Patscha’s shimmering organ, “Down the Hall” examines a man’s stint in a prison infirmary; he observes Tyrone, “cancer eatin’ him inside out,” takes time to shave Julio’s head and, “crackin’ him up,” wash his feet. The Springsteen of Nebraska might have smiled with recognition, but Raitt’s contralto repels attempts to imbue “Down the Hall” with existential portent. Its just-the-facts approach is closer to Springsteen influences like Bobbie Ann Mason than Nebraska.

Just Like That… may inspire catalog deep dives. Many fans’ relationship with Raitt began with 1991’s Luck of the Draw, the septuple-platinum follow-up to Nick of Time that remains a landmark of boomer pop outreach—as much a generational touchstone as Paul Simon’s Graceland, the sort of album Mom and Dad played on vacation road trips because here was a woman Mom’s age having fun making her most powerful music at middle age. In a summer when Bryan Adams strangled the top 40 with a mousy ballad sprung from Kevin Costner’s Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves, “Something to Talk About” was a well-deserved hit, sexy in a mature, fully cognizant way; you’d have to go back to Fleetwood Mac’s “Little Lies” to find as worldly a Top Five hit sung by a fortysomething white woman. And her take on Mike Reid and Allen Shamblin’s “I Can’t Make You Love Me” is the kind of recording that comes along just once in an artist’s career, though it’s echoed in the pungent aphorisms of Just Like That…’s “Down the Hall”: “I don’t know about religion/I only know what I see.”

It’s okay if few performances on Just Like That… match that highlight. Most of her albums contain time bombs; even records like 1986’s Nine Lives, regarded as misbegotten, have miracles of grace like “Crime of Passion” that reward the digging. But Just Like That… will do—ostensible hand-me-downs like the Stones-y “Livin’ for the Ones” shame that band’s recent output, for example. The album title is the giveaway. Pros know their shit.

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