Cleo September
Fjaere
Hidden Gem in an Open House
No one can penetrate me. They only see what's in their own fancy, always.
—Ray Davies
Cleo September is hiding in the songs. Fjaere is hiding inside Cleo September. Inside Fjaere lives a fierce and seasoned, cuddly monster of songwriting wit, multi-instrumental magic, and a producer's fire called Feef Mooney. All three of her characters hide under hats, in a crafted artiface like a fortress of openness, always with the winning charm and irresistible smile, and a guileless wisdom that reveals all the qualities the listener will assign to a friendly voice in a lonely world. That is the wisdom of Cleo September, that we are all hiding in our way, and that all we see in each others façade is our fancy, always.
I come out of that Pete Seeger school if I can get people
singing a wee bit without asking them to my job feels done.
—Fjaere N
My secrets cry aloud.
I have no need for tongue.
My heart keeps open house,
My doors are widely swung.
An epic of the eyes
My love, with no disguise.
My truths are all foreknown,
This anguish self-revealed.
I’m naked to the bone,
With nakedness my shield.
Myself is what I wear:
I keep the spirit spare.
—From Theodore Roethke's first published poem "Open House"
But did I mention charm? Oh my, yes! She triggers delight in that way that Ray Davies describes in the quote at the top of this review. To tell the truth, I feel a little hesitant to write this way about her. It is as though I were giving away the secret of a magic trick. But I am not worried. I swear that even knowing that her waters run deep may forewarn, but you will nevertheless be disarmed by this master of songwriting and grand master of guileless charm. And yet I sense her openness is a protective armor and her "nakedness" a shield. Her songs are wicked smart and yet she has managed to keep her heart.
I just finished rewriting my overwhelming and sprawling review of the honesty and generosity of Janis Ian. I would be remiss if I did not add here that Feef Mooney (Fjaere N's alter ego?) wrote in her most recent blog that she has learned to love other people's music, and to promote rival artist's songs. Her blog shows a ton of heart, and nothing in any encounter, or any song has betrayed anything but generosity in this dedicated creature of music. Her good character keeps her from straying into the cutthroat world of selfish songwriter hell. Thank God she is really good, because I wouldn't dare hurt such a lovely and generous creature. Janis Ian's life challenges me to let go of the pain and love again, and Fjaere, Feef Mooney and Cleo September, or whoever she may choose to be, will always make me saner by her influence, and sweeter in the disposition. Cheers!
But what about the songs? Oh yes. I was getting to that.
Fjaere might be lost in her cloud of charm and upbeat "Pete Seeger" newcomer sweetness, which no doubt, as Davies said it "came from [my] own fancy." Traps are set for whim and whimsy throughout this production including the whistling in a song as buoyant as one by Tiny Tim, Melanie with her "brand new key," or that toy that went zip when it moved, bop when it stopped, and whirr when it stood still. (Anybody remember that John Denver wrote that? I thought not. Back to the review.)
Cleo September is the title song, and it is not a folk song, but something as sophisticated as Liz Phair in her Whip Smart days.
Cleo, he wants you
Why can’t you remember?
It’s ok that he’s August, darling
He’s smitten by your September
See what she did there? It took me a listen or two, but that's a good song. I remember going to galleries to see art. What I loved right away faded fast. These songs stick with me like Galway Kinnell's "Oatmeal" with poet John Keats. More I think about it, its smarter than my heart, and far more connected than my head. It is not good to eat oatmeal alone, and you may want to phone a friend listening disarmed to the Fjaere! I know I am going to be singing this song in my sleep.
Cleo, will you run before you know?
Cleo, he’s the one to feed your soul
Life is a steering wheel. Damnit, lose control
Cleo, she is not going to do that. What a sweet twist! Cleo has outsmarted herself. The song is an advocate for the heart. Huh oh! I am starting to feel something.
Borrowed Time is about working the day job, maybe for a
partner who is trying to make it in the entertainment world.
—Fjaere N
"Borrowed Time" starts with a bit of a caliope and a beat worthy of old school Lambert, Hendricks & Ross. There are brushes on that snare drum, and that merry-go-round sound smacks of a metaphor.
Now I’ll be yours forever. Wouldn’t leave you in the fray
But I’ve got to unborrow my time, this time,
can’t take another day. I can’t take no.
How do you stay with your pace at a crawl,
no space at all
There is not a spec of Peter Seeger anywhere on this album, and this song smacks of an Elvis Costello's Imperial Bedroom lyrics on a bed of Lambert, Hendricks & Ross shuffle swing. Fjaere is old school, I grant, but not field-recordings simple. She got the smarts and the heart at the same time and it is infectious. Pay her to do a "house concert," and for once nothing will get broke cause everybody all ages would be happy and listening my opinion.
"On Opening Day" is about the loss of so much heritage, as old historic buildings are demolished and superblocks constructed. Heart breaking to me. I love the old and the weird here.
—Fjaere
Whistling! I am not kidding! There is whistling and a minimal sweet guitar, and Fjaere comes in with vibrato straight out of Tiny Tim or sweet Buffy St. Marie. There is a little flavor reminds me of Margaret Dumont somehow. Charming and deliberately dated. I imagine they can't really whistle down the wind. You can't really tear down history, but you sure can pave it over a bit.
So they tore down the bungalows and the Art Decos.
And the tract homes went under the Big Bulldoze.
And up went the Superblocks. No one too shocked.
No comments were made. On Opening Day.
"Comes and Goes" is about the divisions we feel. The Red, and the Blue. The rich. The homeless. The craziness of a society with both.
—Fjaere N
The theme of loss is forming by track 4 of this debut Los Angeles album with her 12 Scottish disks under her belt. A waltz. The flute hauntingly doubles the melody in hints of The Moody Blues on this ghostly waltz to the end of sanity.
Crazy, it comes and goes
How little I seem to know
What is real? How I feel? How to heal? What’s the deal?
Crazy, it comes and goes.
Save me. Save us all. Save me. Save us all.
That stings a bit. I do not resemble these remarks. Do I? I don't, do I? [Silence] Apparently the stage directions are written by Samuel Beckett in this hesitation step into the great unknown. See there? Fjaere is not that Pete Seeger simple soul full of Woody Guthrie heart and soul. Her heart and soul are wielded as skillfully as props onstage in these songs for effect and yet, I do not detect a speck of false in this wise waltz.
Do you really have to go?
Was it something that I said?
When you’re hurt, it doesn’t show
And I’m certain I don’t know
The epicentre of your Soul
Dance me away to the time that isn’t, time that isn’tDance me away to the time that isn’t, time that isn’tNow Now
I have never heard "epicentre" but for an earthquake, so there is a swimmy sense of foreboding along this particular fault-line ballad. What should be solid seems to be melting in this liquid dream.
"'California Dream Girl' was written about the tragedy befallen Anne Heche, a woman plagued by a difficult past and hounding media.
—Fjaere N
You wrote a book about your crazy life
Two times, you were somebody’s wife
You couldn’t get beyond where you came from?
Your children set you free to circle the sun
California Dream Girl
I remember Anne Heche during that period of decompensation and the heartless media frenzy that it triggered. She was sitting after-hours on a boutique theater actor's convenience couch with a couple of friends. Because she didn't know me, she nearly bolted out the door when she saw an unfamiliar face. This song captures some of that. I thought at the time I never ever want to be famous for anything. Not in Hollywood anyway. Nope! Not worth it.
Fjaere describes "You Made Me a Believer" as a tribute to the old school a la Marvin Gaye. The lyric style is absolutely sprinkled with that particular Motown sweetener. The repetition in this song serves to unscore the warmth of its feel.
"Let Me Be Light" was written for producer John Leckie and inspired by the spiritual writings of John Kruth.
—Fjaere N
This is a great song! Fjaere feels perfectly suited to its whimsical optimism and full throated support for all good things. Funny, as a kind of useful joke, I sometimes tell myself on a great big adult nervous breakdown day that "Jesus wants me to be a sunbeam." Try it sometime! That phrase wipes out a host of troubles it is just so childish and sweet. This song will be a slightly psychedelic favorite in this "just right" production tone and timbre perfect for that sweet sentiment.
And finally, I have never done this before, but I wanted to add a cover. Those Were the Days is a song my mother used to sing. I think it relates to my song “Epicentre of Your Soul” which has a chours that goes “Dance Me Away to the time that isn’t now.”
—Fjaere N
The production here is notable! I hear in the guitar and the the building cloud of joyous psychedelic cotton candy optimistic ethereal charm, a hint of George Harrison's guitar. It moves me. There is true sentiment in this song. The heartstrings Fjaere tugs first are her own. Lovely lovely song. Whimsical. Oh, there goes George's guitar. I do miss you, Mr. Harrison.
"The Long Ago" where "nothing mattered more than music, in the long ago." We are in Beatles territory again on the guitar! This time it goes way back to the "Meet The Beatles" era twangy nostalgia closer to Carl Perkins and Jimi Hendricks. "Nothing matters more than music."
But everybody is saying it, Music is Love. I think I underplayed that part throughout this review. I could probably go back and substitute the word "love" for all the many times I wrote "charm." Ah well. It is getting late. Fjaere will be playing The Hotel Cafe on November 18th at 8:30 p.m., if I got it right! I am not great at those details, so check your ownself. I would rather be there than anywhere.
FJAERE N
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