This lovingly assembled tribute to revered, yet remarkably obscure, folkie Kath Bloom combines one album of covers by a haphazard array of semi-famous fans with a retrospective of some of Bloom’s own material. While certainly an enjoyable curiosity, the covers album does not come close to capturing the fragile intensity and beauty of the original material.
The vast bulk of Kath Bloom’s work was recorded in New Haven, CT with experimental guitarist Loren Mazzacane Connors between 1978 and 1984. While both artists have achieved some degree of counter-cultural renown in the ensuing decades, their partnership was decidedly not a lucrative one at the time: Connors was working as a janitor at Yale, Bloom was a gardener at a cemetery, and nearly all of their releases were put out in very limited editions on Connors’ own Daggett and Saint Joan labels. Two decades later, those largely ignored original releases are highly sought-after and exorbitantly expensive, possibly because Connors is rumored to have thrown out his unsold stock in the mid-'80s (after marriages and relocations forced the duo to go their separate ways).
Both Bloom and Connors stopped recording music for quite some time after their creative dissolution, though Bloom’s creative hiatus lasted considerably longer than Connors’. However, tapes continued to circulate and a post-mortem fanbase steadily grew through word-of-mouth. One of those fans was Richard Linklater, who prominently featured “Come Here” in Before Sunrise, inspiring Bloom to begin releasing new material again in the late ‘90s. Time, thankfully, has only enhanced Bloom’s singing and songwriting and she is belatedly edging towards deservedly achieving the reputation of similarly rediscovered folkies like Karen Dalton and Vashti Bunyan.
Loving Takes This Course originated from a conversation Bloom had several years ago with her filmmaker friend Caveh Zahedi in which she mentioned that she’d like to hear other people record her songs. Zahedi was very enthusiastic about the idea and contacted Chapter Records head Guy Blackman. Together, they spent the next two years contacting all of their musician friends and slowly assembling a full album of material.
The artists appearing on the tribute album are a rather eclectic assemblage both geographically and fame-wise, but most fall squarely in the Americana/indie rock realm stylistically. Several of the better tracks come from artists that I am unfamiliar with, such as Meg Baird’s raw and minimal rendition of “There Was A Boy” or Peggy Frew’s swaying, jazzy take on “Window” (accompanied by The Dirty Three’s Mick Turner). There are also a number of enjoyable interpretations by artists that I did not expect much from, such as Sweden’s The Concretes, Scout Niblett, and Mia Doi Todd. The album’s clear highlight, however, is Devendra Banhart’s raucous Motown-meets-The Velvet Underground version of “Forget About Him”. The only disappointment was Mark Kozelek’s unexceptional re-envisioning of “Finally,” as I am usually rabidly enthusiastic about nearly everything he does. That said, the tribute album is merely pleasant, not spectacular or essential. Aside from Banhart and Baird, this is a relatively tame and quietly reverent affair.
The Kath Bloom disc, however, is great. There are at least three songs here that I will probably still be listening to ten years from now (“Come Here”, “Forget About Him”, and “I Wanna Love”). Notably, two of those are from Bloom’s post-Sunrise return and all three were written by Bloom herself, which is noteworthy because she was not originally a serious musician: her earliest collaborations with Connors were odd spoken-word performance art pieces. Speaking of Connors, he is not as heavily represented here as I would’ve expected, as only seven of the fifteen songs originated from their collaborations. Then again, this is Bloom’s show, so it makes sense that this collection would skew heavily towards her recent, better produced, and more accessible material. While her experimentally tinged lo-fi work was certainly important and unique, her songwriting noticably progressed with age, so much of her strongest and most timeless material dates from her creative resurrection. That said, there is still some excellent early work here, such as “Window” and the tender “The Breeze/My Baby Cries,” but experimentalism is largely absent (aside from Connors’ subtle wordless moaning).
When Bloom is at her best, her vulnerable, quivering voice imbues her heartbreaking songs with an irresistible power and humanity. That, of course, is largely the reason that a tribute album is somewhat inherently doomed: Bloom has written some absolutely sublime songs, but no one will ever be able to perform them as strikingly as Bloom herself. Nevertheless, this collection is fine introduction to a singular artist and any widely available Bloom release is cause for excitement. The retrospective disc has not left my CD player since it arrived.
samples
- Kath Bloom - Come Here
- Kath Bloom - I Wanna Love
- Devendra Banhart - Forget About Him
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