Capitol Records - May 1997

In some quarters of modern pop these days, artists have found a way to say their piece by stringing together shambles of sound and arcane musings. That's not the kind of thing Meredith Brooks gets off on. Hers is a tough-hewn pop that strives for focus, and doesn't quit until it lands on a melody or topic compelling enough to glide away on its own two feet. "I like things, musical or otherwise, to be centered," she says. "Without listening to the heartbeat you pretty much can't function in this world."

That kind of deeply felt opinion was likely instilled in the Oregon native when she was a kid. Though currently a denizen of the big city, she still admires the unfettered lifestyle of her old stomping ground. And she portrays its particulars quite vividly. You can hear the satisfied snores of the community just moments after the last light in town is shut off. But in the urban province of the singer's life, the pressure is always in the red zone. Locked doors, glances instead of conversations, and runaway anxiety are the prices paid for the stimulation of relentless metropolitan action.. Finding a symmetry between the two realms takes both a natural concern for poise and a respect for tension.

On Brooks' Capitol Records debut, Blurring The Edges, she proves she not only has the will, but the experience to find insights in such contradictions. She also lets us know that big questions can sometimes be defused with a simple laugh. The disc is full of the verve it takes to grab a quandary by the balls and shake out some plain spoken truth. That's because Brooks is a communicator, a performer who can ponder a question with enough presence of spirit to make the listener deeply involved with the outcome. Though she made her singing debut in Mrs. Thompson's, kindergarten class ("I made up songs about the big bad wolf," she laughs), she has become a dedicated blues fan over the years. For her first solo record, she wanted her music to underscore the piercing immediacy of the gritty R&B sounds she adores.

She's also a consummate guitarist, teeming with ideas about texture and layering. While making Blurring The Edges Brooks realized that the overall tone of her Telecaster could vivify the emotions she was trying to get across. There was a realization echoing the same old sounds isn't nearly as exciting as constructing a whole new palette of options. "Every day in the studio I had this mantra," she admits, "the only thing I needed to do is 'forward my essence, forward my essence.' I wanted to keep the structure of the songs the way I'd written them, but take away their rigidity, make them open to new kinds of creativity. That's what blurring the edges means; you allow the creative energy to come in and the miracles to happen. There are a lot of strange combinations taking place on this record.

The singer might be talking about the harmonic blips that leap-frog through "Shatter," the crashes of a washing machine lid on "Watched You Fall" or the cool Middle Eastern guitar figures that dance around "I Need," an abrupt and seductive disc opener whose hook is inescapable. It's also a very funny way of viewing how we've all become victims of the quick-fix syndrome. The lyrics are a laundry list of panaceas designed to instantly correct the trajectory of a life that's gone off course, "Cool friends, weekends and someone to die for a stranger to trust me.. my father to love me...a strong cup of coffee, Seattle, a sunburn, and lots of Todd Rundgren..." howls Brooks with twinkle in eye and tongue in cheek.

Brooks is bemused by the ever shifting human condition. She proudly claims psychology her most cherished hobby, and has deliberated over the changing culture of personal politics she sees around her. "Hey, we all did the drug thing, we all did the money thing, and eventually you find out that none of that stuff fixes anything, and we have nowhere else to go except to evolve spiritually and intellectually," she says.

We learn a lot of personal stuff about Brooks over the course of the disc. She doesn't want anything to interrupt her morning meditation; a really hip phrase from a six string can get her onto all fours; optimism is an old pal, and at their most tantalizing, her kisses can make someone late for work.

Meredith has a strong sense of drama, and can sing the hell out of any phrase, so the 1 2 songs on Blurring The Edges, have a resolute authenticity to them. They're also tightly focused, each making a particular point. "Watched You Fall" is a tone poem regarding dreaminess of disintegration. "What Would Happen" stops to appreciate the enticement of a possible sexual encounter. . . "Somedays" romps while determining that the fickle finger of fate can sometimes be a thumb ready to squash its prey. "Bitch" describes the myriad outlooks and personae that one person can have.

"It's helpful to use a term or a word or mood in a way that's different from what's usually thought; that way it isn't so abrasive." says Brooks. With a hint of mystery in her voice, she adds "I call it semantic realignment. If I'm feeling bitchy on any given day, l'll try to utilize that bitchiness - make it propel something instead of simply moaning about the situation. I like to use anger and sadness as tools for change."

"Pollyanne" explains how the chicness of cynicism is a crock. "Who said 'dark is deep?' she asks. "You'd rather flip the bird/I'd rather show you signs of peace." Her opinions on doom and gloom are clear. "I can't take it anymore," she sighs. "If I see one more upset, angsty kid I'll puke. These day's I'm focusing more on the light and humor in life rather than the Gen X depressed darkness. I think we're hitting on a new wave where people don't want to be assaulted with how fucked things are. We already know all that."

I guess when you're blurring the edges, walking on the light side is the easiest way to live with the darkness.