Singer-songwriter Chan Marshall, aka Cat Power, is a dramatically crowd-shy performer. So much so that she darted offstage mid-song during her October stop at Charlottesville's own Satellite Ballroom, bewildering an audience and further warping her onstage persona. Hidden from the concert-going public, however, Marshall is an extremely talented songwriter with a beautiful voice. Her latest album, The Greatest, is an intimate portrait of a fragile artist performing at the peak of her oft-unrealized potential.
The opening track resonates with the warm sentiment of a pop standard. Over a string arrangement reminiscent of Henry Mancini, Marshall sings the part of a wistful boxer waxing on past glories: "Once I wanted to be the greatest / No wind or waterfall could stall me." With a vocal styling that alternates between that of a soulful youth and world-weary woman, Marshall could either be narrating the plight of a young Cassius Clay or an aging Sonny Liston.
Like any exciting boxing match, however, The Greatest doesn't go down in the opening round. Rather, it pulls strong punches throughout. The album, much like a title match, contains 12 rounds -- or should I say tracks.
Among the knockouts include the mellow romantic comedy, "Could We," which comes complete with a call-and-response R&B horn section. A lighthearted two-minute pop song about a first date, Marshall proves uncharacteristically charming as she sings, "Thank you / It was great / Let's make another date / Real soon."
Sequenced mid-album, the deceptive simplicity of "Willie" expounds upon this pop song template. Over only three chords, Marshall weaves a lyrical epic about two renegade lovers. Augmented by a glitzy, muted trumpet line and a pensive, repetitious refrain, however, this song is more soulful ballad than folk dirge.
Still, as self-assured as Marshall sounds on The Greatest, the album wouldn't be complete without the self-inflicted black eye of a song, "Hate." Where most artists shy away from overtly disturbing statements, Marshall embraces the lines, "I said I hate me myself and I / I said I hate myself and want to die," the song's alarming catch phrase. Incorporated among buoyant neighboring songs for shock value, the plodding lament of self-deprecation is doubtless a stark moment.
If Marshall truly wanted her audience to pity such antics and ask, as the song implies, "Do you believe she said that?" she wouldn't have included the hopeful palinode, "Love & Communication." A jazzy electric piano presides over a steady drum beat, providing the musical backdrop for a hymn of personal acceptance: "Hated to see you sad when I left / There's just no good in that but the good part was / That I came at all cuz I don't venture out."
After listening to The Greatest, fans needn't applaud Chan Marshall for releasing just another record. On the contrary, as the ambitious title implies, she has made the greatest album of her career. All while floating like a butterfly and stinging like a bee on her way to the top.