Liz Janes

Item: Done Gone Fire
Author: Dave Kerschbaum

Done Gone Fire

(2001)

Reviewed by Dave Kerschbaum

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Label Asthmatic Kitty RecordsThe Phantom TollboothApril 2002

alternative folk blues indie rock singer-songwriter

A few seconds into Liz Janes' debut CD, Done Gone Fire, and the mood has been set. Sad, husky vocals and a sparse, blue guitar give us the album's one-minute and change intro, "Martyr's Grind Up." The sparseness and blueness continue throughout the disc with several sonic surprises thrown in to make sure we're paying attention. What we wind up with is good old blues with off-kilter accents and abstract concepts. This is mood music with a twist.

"Guitar Guitar," the second song on Done Gone Fire, sounds reminiscent of Danielson Famile, with the plucking of a lo-fi guitar and xylophone dropped in here and there for good measure. Rumour has it Janes is a friend of the Danielson clan, and their influence is woven in and out of the rest of the disc, with one family member making an appearance on a song. On "2 am," Janes shows her love of blues with her sad sleepy vocals proclaiming, "Two o' clock in the morning and the party's already dead. Lovers all nestled in their bed." Enter a frantic buzz guitar and a methodic Hammond organ at this point. We've got a picture in our heads now, of Janes messed up and tired singing to no one in particular, except maybe a beer bottle. The song ends with the frantic guitar giving out and two piano tracks playing idly off each other.

The blues continue with the sultry "Proposition." A bluesy guitar line is followed by sweaty drums and Janes' come-hither vocals: "I want you to be my lover tonight. Not tomorrow or never again." In this song, the vocals range from low crawl to defiant high swagger.

The second half of the album features more blues, jazz and folk influences, all thrown together and taught to get along. The songs range from the slow and moving "Tristeza" (featuring Megan Smith of Danielson Famile adding "la la la's") to the defiant "Monkey Song" (sensitive listeners beware of expletive) to the playful "Jerusalem," wherein the vocals, split an octave apart on two tracks, slink in slyly with head jutted forward and shoulders back. The disc also features three instrumentals, the last of which is untitled and finishes off the disc. Each of the instrumentals paints a different mood for the listener (I picture an old dusty room with filtered sunlight and weathered wood floors on the last one).

This is an unusual disc and in many ways cerebral. The lyrics on several tunes are as abstract as the record's title. But what may be most unusual about the album is the maturity found in Janes' delivery and the skill of craftsmanship in each of these songs. Many different styles exist here, and Janes and Sufjan Stevens, who plays many of the instruments on this disc, have done a fine job in combining them in complementary ways.

Done Gone Fire is quirky and at times weird, and will unfortunately gather no more than a cult following. But for those of us who do discover Liz Janes, there's hope in this debut for a career of wonderful, creative music. Here's your invitation to sign up.

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