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ARTICLES:
Shocked
brings a more spiritual edge on tour
By Erik
E. Esckilsen, Globe Correspondent, 8/29/2001
WINOOSKI,
Vt. - Michelle Shocked has predicted where life would lead her about
as accurately as the next person. Which is to say not very.
The Texan-born singer-songwriter never expected that the informal recordings
she made while volunteering at a folk festival in 1986, released as
''The Texas Campfire Tapes,'' would land her a record deal with Mercury/Polygram.
Or that she'd later sue Mercury for ''indentured servitude'' under the
13th Amendment of the US Constitution. (The case was settled out of
court.) Or that she'd seek marketing advice from Ben Cohen, cofounder
of Ben & Jerry's ice cream.
Backstage before her show at the Higher Ground nightclub here - on a
tour that stops at the House of Blues in Cambridge tonight and tomorrow
- Shocked is listening to Cohen rave about ''the cultural creatives.''
They're not a rival band; they're a market segment described by Paul
H. Ray and Sherry Ruth Anderson in their book by that title.
The ''cultural creatives,'' Cohen says, are liberal politically, spiritual
but not necessarily into organized religion, and they are concerned
about the environment. They may well have a Michelle Shocked disc in
their CD collection.
The singer, ready to rock in a strawberry print T-shirt and turquoise
jeans, has been taking it all in. She has consulted Cohen about developing
a socially responsible record label, but now she seems to be contemplating
the political left's detachment from the church.
''It was music that brought me to church,'' she notes, referring to
the West Angeles Church of God in Christ in Los Angeles, where she was
''born again'' as a Christian in 1992.
Cohen cracks a wry smile. ''It was music that brought me to you.''
Cohen's backstage presence makes sense. He and Shocked are both activists
for such progressive causes as Ralph Nader's Green Party, and she's
played music festivals sponsored by Ben & Jerry's. But tonight's
ad hoc business seminar marks a radical shift in her career.
After touring without a new album for almost eight years, Shocked will
soon have a record out. ''Deep Natural,'' slated for release in January
2002, will be the debut of her wholly owned Mighty Sound label. The
label gives Shocked unprecedented control over the production and ownership
of her music. ''We're approaching it with the philosophy that the music
industry is broken,'' she says. ''We think we're actually going to sell
records.''
On Shocked's current tour, concertgoers can pick up ''Dub Natural,''
a 13-song CD of ''Deep Natural'' cuts produced in the ambient dub style.
The two will ultimately be packaged together in stores.
For all her career travails, there's no angst in Shocked's live set,
which mixes what she calls the ''gospel birdsong'' of ''Deep Natural''
with hits from her Mercury releases - 1988's folk-punk break-
out ''Short, Sharp, Shocked,'' the brassy ''Captain Swing,'' and the
1991 roots-folk journey ''Arkansas Traveler.''
''It's a lighthearted thing,'' she says of the birdsong qualifier. ''I'm
not a gospel singer. I was not raised in that tradition, and it's a
deep tradition.''
Still, there's plenty of soul in Shocked's act - and, true to her eclectic
tastes, a fair measure of funk, blues, rock, country, and folk. In concert,
''Deep Natural'' also showcases the artist's breadth, hitting a remarkably
authentic gospel note in ''Can't Take My Joy'' and laying down a funky,
Flecktones-esque groove on ''Peach Fuzz.'' Shocked and her band, the
Perverse Allstars, put the blues-rock riffs to righteous use in ''Good
News,'' about blocking a chemical plant outside New Orleans, where Shocked
lives part of the year with Bart Bull, her husband, tour manager, and
accordion player. They spend the rest of the year in Los Angeles, as
chronicled in ''Pico-esque,'' Shocked's countrified sonic ''snapshot''
of their neighborhood.
The gospel stylings of ''Deep Natural'' promise something new - as all
Shocked's albums have - but her signature onstage enthusiasm remains
in full force. ''I believe that what I'm doing is good work,'' she says
of her energetic presence. ''Like most idealists, I second-guess myself
and wonder if I'm just showing off, but I've got to keep doing it.''
She credits her band for reinvigorating her live show, especially longtime
collaborator and Hothouse Flowers member Fianchna O'Braonain, who plays
guitar and tin whistle and sings. ''He kind of infused us with that
spirit of spontaneity,'' she says. With the exception of keyboardist
Paisley Hinton, the other band members are former Shocked troupers:
Bull; Peter Buck on drums and vocals; Rich Armstrong on horns, percussion,
and vocals; and Jamie Brewer on bass and vocals.
Shocked's fans have also stuck by her through good times and bad. To
hear the audience requests for ''Anchorage,'' ''Come a Long Way,'' and
''When I Grow Up,'' one might think her major label releases were still
in heavy rotation.
Much else has changed for the feisty songwriter of ''Graffiti Limbo,''
the activist getting hauled off by the cops on the cover of ''Short,
Sharp, Shocked.'' At age 39, she has been married nine years.
''I've deepened a little bit,'' Shocked says with a thoughtful nod.
''I've grown. But you should get better as you get older. And I [can't]
see why you shouldn't get more radical.'' She pauses as though to clarify
a point. ''You don't change. You become more of yourself,'' she adds.
''All artists strive to do is open themselves up more and more.''
That may explain why Shocked still calls herself ''a raving feminist,''
albeit one who also thanks God for bringing her ''full circle'' in the
religious life she fled as a youth. As to whether fans accept her religious
beliefs, she says that people's concerns are tied mostly to ideologies
attached to religious dogma - something she sees the media emphasizing.
Preachiness isn't part of her act.
''If people want to project onto me all the baggage they have about
born-again [Christians] and fundamentalism, they've got the wrong target,''
she says.
After all, Shocked's enduring appeal has been her music, not her religious
convictions. The joyful exuberance of her concerts is as evident today
as it was when Shocked was an up-and-comer opening for South African
activist and leader Nelson Mandela at Boston's Hatch Shell in 1990.
The singer chalks this up to a basic principle:
''There's two kinds of music,'' she says. ''There's music that recognizes
the human spirit, and there's all the rest.'' In the first category,
she puts Irish music, gospel, blues, and other forms upon which she
has always drawn. That human spirit ''allows you to be spontaneous,''
she says. ''And that is as mysterious and surprising as God.''
This story ran on page D1 of the Boston Globe on 8/29/2001.
© Copyright 2001 Globe Newspaper Company.
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