Katell Keiney

Katell Keiney

On “Mother’s Map,” one of the most compelling songs on Katell Keineg’s second Elektra album Jet, the song creeps up on you like some barely audible breeze. Keineg’s whispery voice is peeling off blessings with just a hint of that catch in her throat that tells you the wail is coming: “Whatever you are, Whatever you want, Whatever you wished for so long, It’s coming your way, It’s reeling in, but it comes slowly it seems…” she sings.

The words almost intentionally contradict the explosion that comes next. Bonham-esque drums go off without warning, infusing the song with a sudden urgency, climaxing with a chilling Keineg yelp, then exiting as softly as she came in.

This charged dynamic – letting the pieces fall where they may – or at least trusting the result – just might be the key to Keineg’s songwriting. Her lilting voice can weave through both the bombast and the quieter moments, making her one of the most adventurous of current female vocalists, but in the most subtle of ways. She has learned to use that resilient voice of hers like another instrument, invoking different textures and moods, often within the same song. She can pummel you – “Smile” – or sound like she’s holding back tears as on the touching “There You Go.” She’ll flutter whimsically – “Veni Vidi Vici” – or back-slap the listener like she does on the bawdy “One Hell Of A Life.”

The album, co-produced by Keineg, Pere Ubu/Frank Black producer Eric Drew Feldman (he also is a member of PJ Harvey’s band, and was a member of Captain Beefheart’s Magic Band) and John Holbrook (engineered Natalie Merchant’s Tigerlily) was recorded in a two month span in Bearsville, New York. “I could talk to both of them,” she says about her cohorts. “It’s the first time I’ve been able to be something other than solo. We set up a triangle – augmented by the musician’s input – what geometric shape is that? The great thing is they were all very unpretentious.”

The same lack of pretense can also be traced to Keineg’s roots, which are wandering ones at that. “I’m from Wales and Brittany and live in Dublin,” she says very matter-of-factly. Keineg winces a bit when writers try to conjure up more mystery than is necessary about her nomadic background. “I’ve lived in Dublin for seven years, but I’ve stayed on and off in New York.” She was busking at 16, and cut her musical teeth at various East Village cafes doing acoustic sets. “I’ve played in almost every conceivable kind of venue, she says. “Ive done my own stuff in the Welsh language, played in a lot of different bands, then I started getting my own solo thing together.”

Keineg eventually released a vinyl 7-inch single on Nicholas Hill and Bob Mould’s label, SOL, the stunning “Hestia,” which one Melody Maker critic dubbed single of the year. The song reappeared on Keineg’s first album, her 1994 Elektra debut, the critically acclaimed ‘Seasons,’ Castles.

Keineg’s spirit of adventure is even more apparent on Jet. “I like music that spans as wide a space as possible,” she says. “Genres are never set up by musicians.” She crosses many boundaries indeed. In fact, the above mentioned “Mother’s Map” may be a good metaphor for Keineg’s willingness to throw away her own compass. “The song is about a blueprint that doesn’t fit anymore. We all set off with a blueprint of how life’s going to be, based on the previous generation’s experience and then when you get there everything is different and you dont know how to act.” The fat drum sound was achieved by Keineg and crew going out and getting…well…a fat drum. “We got a drum that’s used in high school marching bands and we put it together with a regular kit. It was so big we couldn’t see the drummer.”

Keineg experimented with other unusual noise making devices for Jet. “I like non-traditional instruments. Those things outside the usual palette of rock instruments. Especially ones made for children and for tourists. They’re good for me because they’re designed for people who can’t play very well,” she laughs. “We even experimented with gravel in a bag.”

Her enthusiasm for each discovery is obvious. “I want to hang on to the joy of being an amateur. I don’t want to be absorbed into the technocracy,” she says. Keineg also strikes a unique chord with her lyrics. “Ole Conquistador” is a good example of her songwriting depth. But like many lyrical artists, she’s hesitant to shine too much of a light on her own words. “The song is about conquest and the rest,” she says. “Of another person, of nature. It’s only in retrospect that you say: ‘Oh that must be about that then.’ In a way, explaining it takes away from it.”

She does explain her reasons for using two verses from the classic Cuban song, “Guantanamera,” on the track. “It’s a beautiful socialist song,” she says, recalling the translation. “With the poor people of the earth I wish to share my fate. The mountain stream pleases me more than the sea.”

Keineg also uses excerpts from another source on the wistful “Leonor,” after being moved by a newspaper obituary. The song breathlessly tumbles over the ramble of words originally intended to sum up a life. They resonate in Keineg’s hands as she playfully pays tribute to a mysterious woman who was raised ‘in the circle of James Joyce…’ and, Keineg informs us, “mysogny really irritated her but she wasnt one to let it cramp her style.” Keineg’s unique phrasing helps accent the feistiness of the colorful “Leonor”.

It’s easy to see from Jet that it’s life’s off-hand turns that Keineg is most interested in. “I like simplicity,” she says. “Grand gestures are meaningless. No humanity in it, really.” It’s precisely the humanity that makes listening to Jet such a joy.


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