Kristie Stremel - "All I Really Want" (Slewfoot)

Album review by Danny Alexander

With all the misery in the world right now, songwriters must feel a little hesitant to finger the texture of their broken hearts. To hesitate would be natural; to stop would be tragic. Long before the kind of insane fury that drives a jetliner into a building turned our world, lonely men and women lost control of their lives-even took their lives and those of others--because of the misery of heartbreak. No doubt a great many economic and social factors have driven lonely souls over the edge, but it is so often that broken heart that shuts away any light that might save them. And who knows how many lost souls have been saved by hearing the depth of their isolation answered in the lyrics of a song, by realizing they aren't, in fact, alone. That's why the world can never have too many silly love songs--something essential to our humanity lies in this music.

I know; I've been that lost soul too often the past couple years, and no music has pulled me back from the abyss more times than that made by an underexposed heartland rocker named Kristie Stremel. On her new Lou Whitney-produced album, All I Really Want, Stremel captures the depths of love and pain with unflinching honesty, and her belief in the promise of rock and roll infuses each moment and renders the saddest revelations triumphant.

Sound overstated? Take a listen to this album's opener, "Shaky Hands." It's a song about loss of control--over one's own body and over one's life as a result. Beginning with a three chord progression that attempts to climb a mountain and quietly backs down; it's a song about defeat, with an agonizing guitar solo (by Stremel's much-more-than-reliable partner, Chris Meck) that gives an eloquent voice to the pain. The defeated certainty, "I will never see my baby again," casts a shadow over the rest of the album, just as it should. Though the songs here will touch on all the grace love has to offer, even the happiest moments are haunted by loss.

That sad reality clarifies the wisdom of the following rocker, "Good to You." Though this lover probably has no future opportunities to make up for past bad behavior, she pledges to do right where she's done wrong before. When Stremel sings this song live, she randomly points out members of the crowd and pledges, "Everything's just fine/As long as I'm good to you," as a motto for living. It can't fix the past, but it's something she can control, something she can do to learn from it all. The triumph here is in the way this rollicking salvo diffuses the anger that must have fueled it and replaces it with the redemptive power of love.

So, the album opens up for the light soul of "Twist" which, happy as it is, confesses "this evil thing that's inside of me." The balls-to-the-wall title track then unapologetically celebrates the desire she's trying to transcend, admitting, "All I know and all I feel/Ok, I'm beside myself." That's followed by the prayerful "Turn My World" that asks God to lift her up because "I found a love that's burning me down."

The album's midpoint is two fight songs, as thematically connected as they are musically different. The impossibly catchy "More Than A Little" promises everything to a lost love and finds something within her control, recognizing "I don't want another drink/To make it okay." The brave, whisper-to-a-shout anthem, "Miracle," finds strength in its ambiguity, making it clear that love and alcohol are two sides to the same problem. "Working on a miracle," she must overcome her addictions--both the ones to her lover and the ones that hide the pain. "It's the first time I wasn't scared," she recalls at the beginning of the song, and that revelation shines like a guiding light.

From here on out, the same themes are revisited but with a new strength. The lilting "San Luis Obispo" recognizes that the lover is the one who has control over this relationship (the lover, in fact, is the one who works miracles), but the singer asks simply for enough communication to know where she stands. "Forget," perhaps the album's finest moment admits "it takes all my mind to forget about you" (and even knows that won't happen) but manages to celebrate two conflicting truths--she will always feel this pain, and, yet, it won't kill her. Shouting these truths at the top of her lungs with lines as simple as a Joan Jett lyric, at this moment, Stremel is a rock and roll buddha, pure zen and pure passion.

In "Single Day," perhaps the album's most beautiful moment, Stremel again cries out, "all I want is you," repeating the last word in near desperation and, then, despair. At that moment, Meck's guitar steps in with a gentle lead that caresses and places the singer back on her feet. Even as she begs for one more chance, she repeats the refrain, "yes, I know," acknowledging and even taking comfort in the reality that a change has come, that things will never be the same. The '80s-flavored guitar pop that follows, "Call It By The Right Name," finds joy in embracing love itself, whether or not the relationship is going to last.

It is that willingness to appreciate each moment that creates space for the album's final song, the hauntingly gorgeous, "Bright Red Shirt." The girl in this song can't even scrape enough change together for a phone call, much less pay her rent or fix the damage on the car she just wrecked. And yet, she dreams. Love and alcohol may have landed her in this place, but a drink and a crush may also get her through one more night. At the end of this journey through a broken heart, no problems are solved, but the contradictions are defined, and that's probably as much as we could possibly hope for. More times than I can count, it's certainly been enough to keep me going.

--Danny Alexander
danny@thezone.org