Rachel Petzold

I've Been Here the Longest

admin — Tue, 29 Dec 2009 01:00:00 +0000

I’m always on the lookout for a great female lead singer, a strong group with an even stronger style and personality. They seem to be so few and far between, and a lack of maturity on the part of the lead is often the demise of a great band with such possibilities. I’m fond of talking about fabulous bands that would have been so much better—and lasted for more than a single album—if they’d found a great frontwoman to bring it home. Puracane is fortunate to have such a magnificent lead.

The hauntingly beautiful melodies and strong lyrics make I've Been Here the Longest a great addition to my library. I was immediately taken in by vocalist Ali Rogers unique, slightly haunting voice and strong songwriting style. Slightly reminiscent of Supreme Beings of Leisure, I've Been Here the Longest includes a number of songs I’ll put on repeated play on my iPod. I found myself reminiscing about the first time I heard Portishead, and that moment of “wow” that occurred when I realized I experienced something completely magical.

Lyricist and vocalist Rogers started Puracane in 2000 in New York. I took the liberty of listening to the earlier works and have to admit, I am most taken with this recent effort. Its maturity and allegiance to simple yet electrifying, sometimes heart wrenching passion, is the most wonderful musical experience I’ve had this year. I’m disappointed when the best is over, somehow longing for more.

Now a four-member band, including Rodgers, Juan Masotta (who brings amazing talent to the group), Andrew Griffiths, the shared Bass talents of Drew Thurlow & Paul Simon, and the amazing violin of Tony Diodore fill out the dance card nicely. From the memorable "Watershed" through a wonderful and striking "Riddle Me This," all the way to the undeniably original "Sirens," Rodgers sings her soul out and makes me wish for more tracks on a cold autumn night. Or, to live in NYC where I could see them live. I bet that is something to behold. This is the kind of music that gets me home through a tough rush hour commute and makes me happy to share with friends over a warm drink.

I spent quite a bit of time deciphering lyrics, which I never do unless I’m intrigued by the writing. A strong writer is, after all, the best songwriter on the planet. I love it when an album tells a story, and I've Been Here the Longest tells an amazing, maze-like story from beginning to end. All of these songs stand alone wonderfully, but put them all together and it’s like caramel sauce on an ice cream sundae, maybe even with a little whipping cream: decadent yet greatly anticipated and leaving me wanting more.

Written by: Rachel Petzold, December 28th 2009

The Holy Open Secret

admin — Tue, 15 Dec 2009 00:53:00 +0000

By Hoots & Hellmouth

Mad Dragon Records

I would not have selected this album to review if I’d actually read the liner notes. However, I did my due diligence, went to iTunes and listened to a sample or two. I loved singer Sean Hoot’s voice, the uncomplicated lyrics and definite rock beat.

When my package arrived with Hoots & Hellmouth’s The Holy Open Secret, my children, who are teenagers, made their way into my room as I played it. Looking slightly bewildered at my musical choice, my son entered with the comment, “Is that really someone playing the saw?”

I am a lover of most kinds of music. I have every genre on my iPod, often listening to Everclear, Annie Lenox, and Frank Sinatra in short order. But The Holy Open Secret threw me for a little bit of a loop. It was like the first time I watched Napoleon Dynamite—I kept waiting for the funny, engaging, or meaningful moment. But it never came. Except that it did—tenfold.

I love this album. Absolutely adore it. I play it for anyone who will listen. I’ve listened to it at least seven times myself. I have come to obsess over the simplicity, the unusual and amazing concept, and the unique instrumentation pulled together by Hoots & Hellmouth. This is amazing stuff.

I’d almost hate to call this roots music and turn anyone off from discovering the depth and strength that is possessed in its simple concept. I want to beg everyone to listen to it more than once before making a decision. I’m not big into bluegrass or Appalachian music, but this is such a unique and phenomenal group—those who venture past the initial moment of understanding that something special is happening will be amazed at the result. There is stomping, clapping, and other unique forms of percussion—I read someplace that they rarely play with a drummer—and it’s an exciting concept to feel the music without the pounding drums that can overwhelm a subtle lyric.

Formed in 2005 as a two-man group, the now four-member Hoots & Hellmouth caught my attention. And how. I’d give anything to see them live—I bet it’s something to behold to see them in person. Stomping on stage. It all but gives me chills.

They have a great website that includes YouTube clips of live performances. Come on, you know you want to check them out—give it a listen and watch this most unusual quartet. I absolutely, positively guarantee that you’ve never seen anything like it before. Of course, too late to do anything about it, I discovered, as I write this, that they’re traveling through my home state. Now, how do I follow someone on twitter again…? Did they play here? That would be devastating, to have missed them when I just found them.

Written by: Rachel Petzold, December 14th 2009

A Duty to the Dead: A Bess Crawford Mystery

admin — Thu, 10 Dec 2009 09:00:00 +0000

By Charles Todd

Harper Collins

It’s funny how everyone gets something different from a story. I like it best when a book is categorized in a genre that, after reading it, is slightly off from my own understanding. It makes it even more fun to read when my expectations are so astonishingly surpassed.

A Duty to the Dead starts off with a bang. Before the end of chapter one, a gigantic wartime hospital ship, the infamous Brittanic, is at the bottom of the sea. Many healers of the injured are themselves dead, pulled gruesomely into the screws of the behemoth as they frantically row to escape the pull of the massive propellers. Our heroine, Bess, does not fall victim and makes her escape, injured but alive, on another life boat.

I had to read that chapter twice because it was so grippingly described and captivating. I loved Bess before I’d finished it the first time and wanted to meet her for tea by the end of the second pass. After a beginning like that, I was leery of other characters, afraid they would not be nearly as wonderful, memorable, or real. Charles Todd, happily, did not disappoint.

The storyline is at odds with itself by being complicated, simple, and sweet: Army nurse meets and falls a little bit in love with a wonderful, but doomed, man. On his death bed, he begs her to take a message to his brother, to right a wrong that should have been settled a long time ago. She promises, but proceeds to hold off on her mission. It isn’t until her father reminds her of its importance while she recovers from her own injuries that she makes her travel plans. B

ess feels remorse that she could have perished at the hands of an enemy torpedo without fulfilling the promise she made. She travels to meet with the family of her patient, to share this important message with his brother. She has no idea of the secrets this family holds close to the vest.

There is mystery to her visit. A brother, long ago placed in a locked ward, guilty of murdering a nanny as a preteen in a fit of passion. He has spent his life in an institution, and his surviving brothers all work hard to ignore his very existence. Deaths, however, seem to occur in this small hamlet more frequently and more unusually than they should. They all seem to be accidents, until Bess starts to dig to the bottom of the secret she knows her patient held.

The mystery is soundly contrived, shocking, and brilliantly comes together in the end. Every person met along the way is a new entry into stellar character building. My only disappointing moment was the last sentence, slightly sticky in its sweetness—but, alas, forgivable. After all, some girls like that kind of stuff.

A Duty to the Dead will forever be in one of my top ten. I will cherish its addition to my sparse but well-loved library.

Written by: Rachel Petzold, December 10th 2009

All the Dead Voices

admin — Wed, 14 Oct 2009 23:37:00 +0000

By Declan Hughes

William Morrow

I have always been drawn to a good crime story. When I was given the opportunity to read a writer previously unknown to me, a book that sold itself as a cross breed of modern American noir and Irish culture, I was excited at the prospect. I should have opted for a love story.

All the Dead Voices is a strange mix of modern American urban gangster style with an Irish bent and a distinct dislike of the female in all her forms. As I read, I kept attempting to find a connection to Declan Hughes' story, the characters, the history, and even the location. However, there is such disparity between my expectations and what the pages hold that this connection never came about.

Ed Loy is trying to escape his past, but I’m still fuzzy about what that past entailed. He is a private investigator in Ireland. Maybe this is the true mystery—how a reader can understand a character that was fleshed out in three previous novels without sufficient introduction for those of us joining the series in progress. For me, a good story is defined by its ability to make me believe in the characters, good and bad. I have to admit that I don’t know any of them besides Ed himself, well enough to like or dislike them. Ed wallows through the mire of a slow story, which is also somewhat disjointed, to attempt to solve murders, have sex with everything in a skirt, and feel sorry for himself and his lot in life.

Three murders occur in a short period of time. All three people killed were speaking with Ed just moments before their demise. You’d think the proper authorities would have wondered at his participation. Ed seems to be free to associate with known felons and a soccer star murdered “gangland style,” and yet Ed escapes without so much as a second look. He stumbles through life in the pages of this book being almost, but not completely, unlikeable. Otherwise he wouldn’t be having so much sex, I suppose.

The only female character worthy of a name is Anne Fogarty. She is recently divorced, obviously pretty and walks into Ed’s office and his life to find out about the murder of her father. The man who served time for this murder has been set free and Anne believes him to be innocent. She wants to know the truth about her father’s death, her mother’s involvement (she was having an affair at the time with the prime suspect). Anne has found the NBCI to be unwilling to help. By the way, I had to look online to find out what NBCI stands for—National Bureau of Criminal Investigation, an arm of the Irish police force. Mr. Hughes has a tendency to banter around acronyms as though they should be well known by everyone.

Forty-five seconds into Ed’s first meeting with Anne, he is thinking, “I had promised myself never again to fall for a client and here I was. I could smell her now...” I think I have to promise myself never again to pick up a novel by Mr. Hughes until after I’ve had my breakfast. It left me nauseous.

The most memorable interchange is between our man Ed and his friend Dave who is an investigator on the police force. Ed has recently helped Dave out of another red-faced moment—being caught with his pants down—and the need to appease his wife so she’ll go back to making him breakfast. The playful banter about their recent interactions falls flat on its face when Ed realizes that the beautiful Anne has been making the rounds of the NBCI.

Dave explains, “I met Anne Fogarty, I took her for coffee, I talked through the reasons we wouldn’t revisit her father’s case. I took her to the Merrion Hotel, Ed. And now she’s telling you I’m the bad guy?” When Ed exclaims that Dave’s wife might find out, Dave’s witty response is, “Stop. I can hear her now. You never take me to the Merrion Hotel. But yeah, I did, and do you know why? Because I felt sorry for the child.”

Declan Hughes is a Shamus Award-winning author, a husband, and a father of two girls. I hope he never lets them read his work.

Written by: Rachel Petzold, October 14th 2009

Stark Ring

admin — Sat, 05 Sep 2009 09:15:00 +0000

By Stacy Christopher Jewelry

I love simple. - Stacy Christopher

The Seattle-based jewelry maker of Stacy Christopher Jewelry does indeed. The beautifully elegant and thoughtfully minimalist Stark Ring arrived in a simple brown, tuck-top box with the image of a crow hand-stamped on its face. I felt like I was opening a birthday present and was delighted at the gift inside.

Stark is industrial in its look and feel, but has smooth edges that are comfortable and elegant. It is just under a third of an inch wide, which is rather thick compared to most of my other silver jewelry, but this ring is anything but heavy. I can tell by the design that it is meant as a men’s band; however, I wanted to wear the ring myself so I’m enjoying it on the thumb of my left hand. (It would look just as stunning on a black rope chain around your neck as on any finger.) This special piece of art has an ability to make me feel girly even though it is quite masculine. I like the occasional pretty thing, but I am most often drawn to clean lines and pieces I can purchase knowing I will still love them in ten years.

The Stark ring joined me on my first day of work at a new job. It won a couple oohs and aahs from my new coworkers, who were immediately sent to the artist’s site for details. Christopher's other work is just as beautiful and keep with her "I love simple" style, but I was still draw to the Stark. Its unique appeal is its amazing handiwork, which is visible to the naked eye. It looks like I'm wearing a piece of an airplane.

Artist Stacy Christopher works as an engineer during the day and designs jewelry as her passion. It's not often (or ever) that the simple addition of a silver band on my thumb has invoked such feelings of grace and strength at the same time. I can tell there is a little additional shopping from her collection in my future.

Written by: Rachel Petzold, September 5th 2009