Kim Richey Albums (5)
What The Critics Say
Since 1995 when her self-titled debut album appeared, songwriter Kim Richey has pushed her own envelope enough times so that she can't be put into any kind of box, Chinese or otherwise. Richey has experienced numerous successes as a songwriter, having her songs recorded by some of the biggest names in the country biz. Yet despite overwhelming critical success, the general public hasn't completely gone over. It's difficult to understand why, since Richey understands the nuance of pop songwriting to a 'T'. She has a fine, large voice that is deeply expressive and adds depth and dimension to virtually everything she sings. Whatever the reason, one can only hope that as an artist she has found deep satisfaction in creating a body of work that will stand the test of time long after many of her contemporaries are gone. Chinese Boxes is her debut album for Vanguard and her first in five years. It is as different from Rise as it was from Glimmer as it was Bitter Sweet. In other words, Richey's obsession to get a song across holds no formula. Rise was spare and minimal, and this is a beautiful sweeping record with horns, strings, bright and shiny textures that aren't necessarily slick. Recorded in the U.K. with Giles Martin producing, Richey has constructed a series of classic themed and framed pop songs. The airy, breezy opener "Jack and Jill," written with Katie Herzig, contains flutes, saxes, a Wurlitzer, kazoo, and a harpsichord along with the guitars, organic percussion and drums. Yet the tune drifts with its gorgeous melody and melancholy message. The title track, about a lover who is a mystery, endless and unfathomable, mercurial and impossible to identify, contains a B-3, a horn section, and mandolin! Its melody is jaunty, it flows, moves and twirls. Yet it's not all sweetness and light; actually, none of it is, the lyrics in these songs are mature, free of clichés and easy conclusions. "The Absence of Your Company" is a devastating song about a breakup. Not in its drama, but because of the lack of it. With fingerpicked acoustic guitars, a piano, brushed drums, bass and a wooly, spaced-out guitar break, it feels like the saddest song in the world despite its mid-tempo gait. It's as if the protagonist, who may indeed be hurt by the distance created emotionally between her and her beloved, can simply walk away, as if she's so used to these scenes that even though she dies a little in the process (which is a lot of dying, if the lyrics are to be believed, and this particular woman has seen a lot of this), she simply picks up her toys and goes home. She's not playing. She takes her open wounds and slips away into the ether. "Turn Me" is a seemingly melancholy country song -- a modern one, and don't be surprised if some wily producer gets a current "superstar" to record it -- but it's one of the most beautiful and devoted love songs written in the genre in years because of its adult view of love. There's hope, there's surrender, there's willingness to hang in there no matter what. With the gorgeous guitar layers, both acoustic and electric, a harmonium and Wurlitzer, the song is so much bigger than its frame. It enters deeply into the human heart and whispers a truth so profound it's rather remarkable she could get it inside a song. This is not hollow-eyed, empty-headed romanticism, but the real thing. What's a mindblower is that this is merely the first half of the album! The Beatlesque psychedelic pop in "I Will Follow" is full of hidden twists and turns, but they lay in between the layers of instruments as the singer speaks of a kind of blind faith that may be wary, but expresses its lack of choice in that it has to trust the dreams and visions that are her bidders. The existential emptiness in "Something to Say" expresses a kind of loneliness at time's passage, but the tune's melody belies it and sets the two almost against one another. There's hope here, but the hope lies not in the moment, even as it longs for presence of mind. It's a rainy day song with an infectious sense of purpose and a glimmer (no pun intended) at the edge of the clouds. "Not a Love Like This" is a rocker with knotty guitars, an accordion and shuffling acoustics where the protagonist lets it rip that she's had enough of doubt, of emptiness, of being ignored, of being left "in the wind to twist." The final two cuts, "Another Day" and "Pretty Picture," are fitting closers in that they bring all of these emotions into a kind of resignation and the willingness to embrace it all again, because what else is there but love? Lyrics aside, the musical sophistication here is the main thing. Richey's album is the most sensual she's ever recorded. Not so much in the erotic sense necessarily (though the suggestion of that is here but it's very subtle, and exists as an extension of emotion), but in that the listener is engaged on every level, her words paint pictures to see, ones that bring the memory of touch and the smell of the air as these things occur. One can hear in the beautiful arrangements and instrument choices that these songs are alive; they're breathing entities and will not be reigned in by time. They are ever present. The choice of styles and tempos, the adornments she and Martin clothe these songs in are elegant because they admit light, warmth, and change and are ready for any season. On first listen, Chinese Boxes may not be as arresting as Glimmer or Bitter Sweet, but it is a better recording than both ultimately, if not as dramatic upon first glance. It takes the listener inside it gradually but deeply, and leaves them with traces of its musicality, its characters, and its melodies long after the record is over. It also draws one back, seductively, without artifice or false promise. This is one of those recordings you will be able to listen to in five years and realize it's still current, still full of both meaning and style because it adheres to neither exclusively. It concerns itself with little but with the needs dictated by song, and therefore, to truth itself. ~ Thom Jurek, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
There's a lot about Kim Richey's Rise that is intriguing. All of it seems to circle around the balancing of playful and contemplative moods. The lyrics, the instrumentation, the arrangements -- all are means to that intriguing end. She sits a song that reminisces about the greatest show on Earth ("The Circus Song") right next to a haunting ballad that struggles peacefully to hold on to the memories of a love affair ("Fading.") The mood shifts dramatically between the two, but it's OK. It's real. It's so much how a heart beats and how a mind thinks that you don't really notice. The timing of an album's release is always interesting to watch as well. In the same way Sheryl Crow's C'mon C'mon was a perfect spring/summer listen, Rise hitting the streets in October can't have been a coincidence. The crisp air and shimmering colors of autumn bleed into the quietude and introspection of winter in the same seamless way these songs flow into one another. The really cool thing is that these tunes are a total grab-bag of styles, rhythms, and attitudes, like a game of musical Tetris being played from track to track. Producer Bill Bottrell guides the pieces with a careful and creative hand, making each song excitingly unpredictable, both individually and as part of the collective soundscape. If you've never heard Richey's work, come on in, the water's perfect. If you have heard her previous efforts, forget what you know (no matter what that is) and dive in too. Rise is sure to please even the most fickle listener. ~ Kelly McCartney, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Richley has a knack for catchy pop hooks and clever lyrics. The cock-eyed optimism of "Can't Lose Them All" and the cold pessimism of "The Way It Never Was" are good indicators of the mind-set at work here. Her well-grounded vocals are nicely complimented by Hugh Padgham's (Sting, the Police) folk-rock production. ~ Tim Sheridan, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Kim Richey's second album avoids any sophomore slump and moves her toward a more pop-oriented sound than heard on her debut. The southern California sound of the late '70s looms large; the most obvious point of reference, both musically and thematically, is Karla Bonoff's self-titled first album, the one that Linda Ronstadt mined for her, Hasten Down the Wind. This means that on contemporary terms, Bitter Sweet falls somewhere between Rosanne Cash's country and Shawn Colvin's folk. Richey's songs are intimate examinations of romantic relationships between women and men, more often than not ones that have gone awry. But Richey sings even the most broken-hearted of the songs with a sense of optimism, and thus avoids sinking into maudlin self-pity. Best of all, Richey is a fine lyricist, capable of taking a cliché and twisting it or reinvesting everyday language with meaning. One such example is the single "I'm Alright," which starts with the throwaway line, "After all was said and done," followed by the abrupt, "There was nothing left to do." Throughout Bitter Sweet, Kim Richey makes it plain that she was one of the most gifted songwriters working out of Nashville in the late '90s. ~ Martin Monkman, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Kim Richey had managed some success on the Nashville songwriting scene by the time she released her eponymous debut in 1995. With it, Richey proved that she had the goods as a performer and musician, as well. Featuring some of Nashville's best studio musicians and most talented pop misfits, Kim Richey is a sterling delight. It would be easy to compare her to fellow folk-tinged artists like Shawn Colvin, but there's also more than a dose of Springsteen and Hiatt on here, too. Lyrically, Richey knows her way around a clever turn of phrase, as she explores the more unpleasant results of relationships. But she is no woman broken: Just check out the resilience on the gorgeous "You'll Never Know" or the unbridled optimism of new-found love on "Good." She also possesses a deliriously angelic voice, which is given plenty of room to roam on the hushed ballad "Let the Sun Fall Down." A stunning debut by a gifted artist. ~ Tom Demalon, All Music Guide
