Poignancy heaped upon poignancy on Taylor’s final recordings
Words From Holy Gardens was already a very emotionally wrought record, featuring as it does Chip Taylor’s home recordings of his responses to aging and in particular to the death of his wife Joan, after more than sixty years of marriage. That already heavy atmosphere surrounding these new songs has become even more laden with emotional impact with the passing of Chip Taylor himself. It’s a combination of events that makes a traditional critical response to the music presented something of an irrelevance. This is a final statement of love, and a final musical statement as well. The recordings couldn’t be more intimate, as Taylor explained the process: “While I was taking care of her (and she was caring for me), I was often sitting at home with my guitar. I play some chords with no direction in mind and sometimes words and melodies just come along. I look for that “chill factor” – when my body tells me there is something magic happening. When I felt that chill factor, I turned on the voice memo on my phone and played whatever was in my heart at the moment – no editing.” This resulted in some happy accidents, such as on the song Happiness Forever where Joan walked into the room towards the end of the song and asks about it.
Opening with Worthy Bastards, Taylor imagines a bar and being surrounded by, and toasting, all his friends who are no longer with him. Big Hole in the Middle is very much a companion piece of the ache of absence as Chip Taylor gently strums and sings in a cracked voice “once I had a dream I’d hold you every night / we would always be together / now the dream’s gone / the song’s gone / nothin’ seems to last long as this big hole in the middle.”
Maritza Or Somebody recalls the frustrations – and new friendships – that Taylor found whilst in hospital himself, whilst I Don’t know How To Die is a plaintive plea to find an end to suffering, it’s a tough listen which is a fair comment for the whole album. The only thing it really recalls are those last recordings by Johnny Cash or the hospital ward recordings of Roky Erickson – music that’s difficult to listen to because the communicated pain is too raw. It’s a brave final album from a songwriter who will forever be best remembered for such pop confections as Wild Thing. Here we have a wild thing finding a quiet spot to contemplate the end.
