Your support helps us to tell the story
From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.
At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.
The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.
Your support makes all the difference.Courage and confidence are hardly the qualities that spring to mind when one thinks of former American Music Club singer Mark Eitzel. Quite the opposite, in fact: he excels in the kind of suicidal, enshrouding gloom for which Leonard Cohen was once famed, which makes this compilation of supposed heart-warmers an intriguing prospect. Will Eitzel be able to elucidate the fulsome, positive glow of "Move on Up", the obsessional joy of "I Only Have Eyes for You", the yearning of "Ain't No Sunshine"? Well, no, no and no, in that order, though that's not to say he doesn't deliver strange new slants on some of the odder song choices. "Snowbird", for instance, is given a Cowboy Junkies kind of treatment, spare and funereal but humming with atmosphere, while "Do You Really Want to Hurt Me" is virtually unrecognisable in a Stina Nordenstam-style arrangement, with Eitzel's enervated monotone set to a backdrop of deep techno tones.
The deconstructed disco of "More, More, More" is given a sinister licentiousness by Eitzel's weary baritone; but for contrariness, it's tough to beat "I'll Be Seeing You", a warm song of fellowship here lent a chilly air of stalker menace akin to "Every Breath You Take". The most successful piece is the saddest, Phil Ochs' elegiac "Rehearsals for Retirement" being perfectly suited to the melancholy blue shades of Eitzel's voice and electric piano. Not that it brought Ochs too much courage or confidence – but then, perhaps that's the point.
Join our commenting forum
Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies
Comments