MacLeod sings of love with simple brilliant style

By Barry Levey

MARLEE MACLEOD

Favorite Ball and Chain (Warner Bros.)

Minnesota has been catching a lot of flack since the movie Fargo came out last year: land of endless frozen roads, wicked wood cutters, and funky Swedish accents. Add to that list "land of Marlee MacLeod," the most exciting singer-song-
writer to emerge in the past year. Now that people are finally realizing
that not all chicks who sing are Alanis/Courtney/Sheryl rip-offs, MacLeod proves just how wide a woman's breadth of style can be. With lyrics that approach
brilliance and melodies you can both run to and get chills from, Favorite Ball and Chain is an album true music lovers will keep under their pillow when they go to bed.

Now, I'm not going to say that MacLeod is destined for superstardom. No predictions about her taking over the world or playing an acoustic version of her most bad-ass tune at next year's Grammy Awards. In all probability, MacLeod will remain obscure up until her death. In her own words, "My life here is a demo tape." But how much cool
er would you be, then, for knowing her work? Much cooler and, I might add, one step clos-
er to perfect happiness.

MacLeod's songs have the feel of a woman singing in a bookstore coffee shop who is suddenly joined by some hard-rocking strangers who were idly checking out the nudie magazines. Literate yet raw, breezy yet pointed, accessible yet acidic; these tunes explore the dark side of love with such subtle intensity that they make you want to run out and get your heart broken, just so you can understand her better. Lines like "Tell you what you get for chasing your affection: insomnia and a record collection" bring tears to your eyes with their brute truth. "Yes!" you cry, looking at the Angst Grunge CDs you accumulated while pining after that Brooding Boy you unsuccessfully wooed. "Marlee, you go!"

Angst Grunge is the one thing you won't find among MacLeod's wide range of styles. Songs like "Telling Me the Truth" evoke a simple folk singer ("Are you telling me the truth, don't try to save me") while "Don't Ask Me" is infectious pop with a sting ("Don't ask me what I'm thinking 'cause I'm not"). The predominant style is most akin to folk- rock, a bit of Ani DiFranco with more instru-
mental backing and a slight twang.

The ultimate effect is haunting, eerie. On "Lover Let Me Be," she fears succumbing to a romance that will tear her apart, singing with a voice that sounds almost possessed. "Can't keep my hands to myself, my eyes on my own paper, my money in my pocket, or my heart from on my sleeve." It reads like the Gospel of Spooky Love.

Marlee MacLeod isn't quite happy. "Wish my eyes were blue," she sings on "Keeper." "Ever since I've met you I've been covetous. I guess green'll do." But don't call her angry. She sings with an insight that forbids surrender. Favorite Ball and Chain is the tract of a woman who knows that even the love which never quite begins may never really end. Predictions
are as just as futile as regret; as MacLeod sings on "Walk": "I'm not sleeping "til
I'm dead."

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