Marshall Crenshaw emerges from the Hellhole with a solid collection of recent recordings.
It’s been over 40 years since Marshall Crenshaw burst on the scene with his eponymous debut, and he returns with a collection of not entirely new songs named after the home recording studio where the songs were created, “From the Hellhole”. Fans of Crenshaw will recognise many of the selections included on this album, but they likely will not have heard these versions. Crenshaw’s revisiting of these songs stems not only from his confidence in them as inherently good songs, but also from his desire to improve upon the original recordings and “make each track become its best possible self”.
Most of the songs are remixed, slightly revised versions of tracks that were originally released on a series of EPs between 2012 and 2016, along with a few additional rarities and covers. While most of the tracks don’t stray too far from the musical template Crenshaw is known for, they don’t have to when the songs and performances are this good. The album succeeds on two levels: as an opportunity to hear Crenshaw’s most recent original recordings, and as a quasi-covers album, providing a selection of eclectic interpretations that pay homage to some of his musical influences.
Beginning with the splendid ‘I Don’t See You Laughing,’ the album’s opening track features all the essential song elements that Crenshaw has always been a purveyor of: catchy melodies, clever arrangements, and stellar instrumental backing. Uncannily, Crenshaw’s unfaltering bright tenor and crisp guitar work sound much the same as they did all those years ago, if not better.
The first of the covers included is Burt Bacharach’s ‘(They Long to Be) Close to You’, and as widely known as the song is, it’s a testament to Crenshaw’s talent that he can find a way to make it his own and place it comfortably among his originals. It begins as a somewhat faithful rendition of the original, elevated by some nice Beach Boys’ styled harmonies, but gradually segues into a slow-burning, dreamy instrumental outro that veers slightly into cosmic/psychedelia territory, revealing understated nuances along the way, distant trumpet, some atmospheric guitar and even a dub mix at the end. In the process, it makes a song that is so ingrained in our subconsciousness sound fresh and new, if not a bit darker.
Other covers included fare equally well, including Jeff Lynne’s ‘No Time’ by his pre-ELO outfit, The Move, with its sweet Laurel Canyon harmonies and featuring some absolutely lovely slide guitar. Indeed, his guitar work on this album should also be mentioned, as it shouldn’t be overlooked when discussing Crenshaw’s body of work. Here, it is quite outstanding, never showy, and always serving the song and provides the album with many highlights, such as the melodic, sinewy playing at the close of ‘I Don’t See You Laughing’.
The personal touches Crenshaw inserts in these well-chosen covers are also evident in his interpretation of The Lovin’ Spoonful’s ‘Didn’t Want to Have to Do It’, where some soulful crooning reimagines the song as something that could be part of the American Standard Songbook, and given that the song is now nearly sixty years old, it could very well be.
The original songs more than hold their own as well. In particular, the tracks selected from the EP’s project showcase his classic songwriting. The melodies are infectious, and the lyrics, many cowritten with fellow songwriter Dan Bern, a mix of poignant and quirky. Highlights include the midtempo ‘Driving and Dreaming’, the rootsy ‘Grab the Next Train’ and the accordion-based ‘Red Wine’, which is simply a great song.
Kudos to Crenshaw for taking what could have ended up as a hodgepodge of orphan songs and turning them into a unified collection. While Crenshaw’s perfectly crafted originals flow easily together, potential outliers, such as the punchy, groove-heavy ‘I Just Want To Celebrate’, don’t feel forced or out of place and sit comfortably together. Melodically and stylistically, these songs all sound like they could easily fall within Crenshaw’s canon of songs and, taken together, make for a splendid album.
The final track, a rollicking cover of the Bobby Fuller Four’s ‘Never To Be Forgotten’, serves not only as a fitting tribute to one of Crenshaw’s earliest musical influences, but also as a showcase for everything he does so well in his own songs, all neatly packed into three and a half minutes of pure joy.
Until he releases new music, this is a welcome addition to his catalogue and a pleasant reminder of his immense talent.
Simply, a power-pop God!