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New York Press (www.nypress.com)
August 2000

by Jeff Hanson

OVER THE RHINE
AMATEUR SHORTWAVE RADIO

In her book The Writing Life, Annie Dillard asks the question, "Why are we reading, if not in hope of beauty laid bare, life heightened and its deepest mystery probed?" Admirers of the metaphysical novel are doubtless reading for these reasons, but the question has more to do with why we write and why some writers don’t write for the reasons Dillard names. Why some don’t, I suspect, is that they are not as good as Dillard at baring beauty, and that’s not much of a surprise. The Beautiful has always been trickier than the Good and the True, and those who try to lay it bare are more likely to end up naked themselves, failed seducers.

I doubt Over the Rhine knows anything about this. For a decade now they have made music that can be called truly gorgeous without sounding like pretentious fools. The band centers around vocalist Karin Bergquist and keyboardist Linford Detweiler; they started writing songs together in the Cincinnati neighborhood that gave the band its name and released two independent records before signing with IRS. When the label folded they decided to go out on their own. Over the Rhine recorded their next album in Detweiler’s house; the result, 1996’s Good Dog Bad Dog, is indisputably their masterpiece, and, fortunately for the band, instantly became the decade’s Little Record that Could.

Critics effused over Bergquist’s dizzying vocals. Michael Timmins of the Cowboy Junkies invited the band on tour, both to open shows and play in the Junkies lineup, and they ended up recording together as well. As a result of their national exposure Bergquist and Detweiler performed their own music on CBS This Morning without Good Dog Bad Dog ever having a national release. (Back Porch Records, a division of Virgin, has since brought Good Dog Bad Dog out on its label.)

Good Dog Bad Dog is a must-have, but a newer live compilation, Amateur Shortwave Radio, released last year, is a good introduction to some of the band’s fans’ favorites, and contains new material for long-time admirers. The most exciting aspect of the record is the extent to which it conveys the obvious pleasure that Bergquist and Detweiler take from performing together, enhanced surely by the fact that they have been married now for four years. I’ve seen them perform perhaps half a dozen times, and the tracks are surprisingly faithful to the live shows. Their cover of "Ruby Tuesday" sounds particularly ebullient, that of "Blackbird" particularly harrowing. "Moth," a new track, is worth the price alone. "Like a Radio" and "Circle of Quiet" have been popular choices in the past and here run pleasantly long. "My Love Is a Fever," a song destined for live performance, sounds like Beat poetry backed by the blues (imagine Kerouac with B.B. King improvising behind him instead of John Coltrane).

Common to all of Over the Rhine’s works is a deep poetic ambition (explored lyrically by Leonard Cohen and Neil Young and in prose by Dillard), but the songs never seem overwrought, a danger when your creative inspirations are that daunting. The dreamy 50s-era pop of "Anyway" is perfectly suited to the resigned melancholy of its title ("Any recourse now/Well it’s much too late/Anyway"). "Moth" is an impassioned meditation on unfulfilled desire: "There’s no savior hanging on this cross/It isn’t suffering we fear but loss/This is closer than I ever came/Just a burning moth without a flame/It’s an offer that you can’t refuse/It’s a trophy you’ll want to lose/But you’ll do anything/Anything/You’re a burning moth without a flame." The imagery sounds like it could have been taken from one of Catherine of Siena’s erotic/mystical texts (it also recalls a passage from Dillard, whom the band cites as an influence). And then there’s "Latter Days," the opening track of Good Dog Bad Dog. I defy anyone with at least a scrap of human feeling to remain unmoved by it.

The standout feature of the music is the compelling presence of Bergquist. If her life were subject to the cosmic laws of Greek mythology, a jealous goddess would smite her with an awful curse to prove that so many gifts bestowed on one mortal cannot go unpunished. Critics have compared her to Joni Mitchell, Billie Holiday, Sarah McLachlan and Margo Timmins. That seems about right–keeping in mind that all their talents are combined in one person. McLachlan and Timmins, however, sometimes make music with a reach that exceeds their grasp. They sing bigger than their ideas. Over the Rhine’s virtue is that the extravagance of Bergquist’s voice is matched by their poetic gift.

Over the Rhine plays this Fri., Aug. 25, at All Angels Coffeehouse, 80th St. (betw. B’Way & West End Ave.), 212-362-9300.