Raitt Now (recently)

 Before this ol' house computer stalls up again, I better state my theme as quickly as possible, maybe come back to it later:

The theme seems to be replenishment, seeking and by cracky finding, in some forms of what may well be, or emphatically is, temporary relief, but via the schooling impact of age, of impressions that she gets, ouch-y, as Alfred Soto's Pitchfork review references at the kick-off.

The more inspirational sense of replenishment---the harder kind to find, because so easily confused with greeting card verse etc.---is exemplified by the title track, given a speculative ellipsis when adapted as album title: you can read between the dots if you like, rather than hold a candy cane exclamation mark or auto-inferred period: this last associated (via repeated listenings) to the closure-as-relief-as-replenishment of "Made Up Mind," her other Grammy winner--ah, the peace and quiet, anyway quiet, that will surely come after the sound of a slamming door, as the moonlight shines like gravy on the really done deal. 

And it ain't necessarily so that nobody's home---this may be the same house, with little bits of scrappy keepsakes, landmarks to take us through the rooms and down the hall, to where we say good night, in that familiar way---"eerily restful," as Pauline Kael once remarked in passing of The Twilight Zone, back in the first years when it was on---ahhh, sleep, don't knock it.

But there's a fallacy being courted, even slo-mo strip-mined there in the made-up bed-mind, as pointed out in passing by the truth-vampire's enclosed system of perpetual motion replenishment, "Waitin' For Her To Blow": yeahhh, stress-test her road, her iron choice ov yore: build her up, break her down, get her to do it to herself, and start all over again. At first I thought of this as a music-biz thing, narrated by her Svengali drill sarge, but I can't say I've ever known of her being associated with anyone like this; she's always seemed self-driven, in good and bad ways (ex-hub and others have remarked on her temper of younger years), and here whatever devil's in her head expresses itself mostly impishly, in co-writing with her male guitarist, and as sung and played, with combo at its best here.

(Should also mention that the Original Steely-worthy arrangements and executions of this alb overall are crucially recalibrated, esp.the speculative spotlights-streetlights of keys. which could be too beguiling, by otm acoustic solo acoustic features, just enough of them, and more often by the well-timed, astringent, expertly probing finger ov slide.)

The brute force of "Waitin' " (one of those songs that I finally realize was always waiting to be written, while experienced by so many people) is tapped in the one about rousing oneself (may be, at least in some instances, part of the breakdown-buildup in "Waitin'") to be "livin' for the ones that didn't make it," to the extent of looking at what their grandchildren are doing, and "Let it break you": which here sounds like Yeaaahhhhh Let It Rock

(This is the only one that sounds a little stiff too me, although it's great stuff, and certainly a time-honored Stones ritual that maybe only Boomers can get through credibly, or would bother attempting, which is also in part about stiffs, is appropriately or or understandably a mite stiff; I can live with that.
Alfred hears the Toots cover as lacking in skank, but to me the bluesy, muscular pushback, the striving of the sound goes with that of the words, of the obsessive, country-as-blues vision of proving oneself to be love-worthy, proving it past the ostensible love-object, to oneself---and these things can still feel so good when you get back into them again, like the one that's just about all the signs of slipping back toward that funny little thing called love

(Though of course there's also slipping back into that closure thing, the blame game, with more moonlight even, and her solution is to turn it around, or resolve too, while sounding like she knows this won't be more than another move--so: more country appeal!)

I haven't kept up with her albums very well since the 70s, but this set deepens and ages her vintage approach, keeping it potent, hitting harder than ever in some ways, with her classic method of blending x juxtaposing songs from different angles and writers.

― (Slipstream also gave me the vintage BR buzz, though I didn't listen as much as I have to this, should also give the initially "disappointing" Dig In Deep more spins.)

I should have mentioned that her flair on this alb with themes of age, time, mortality---so often such an Ageing Rocker Looks At Life ponderosity, to varying degrees, musically and in doorstop memoirs---first showed in the way she took up "Angel From Montgomery" when Prine released it, I think: a rare theme back when they was young/ the Average American was approx 23.6 years old; there was that one, and Prine's (eventually a tad too tremulous) "Hello In There," and uh, the somewhat Shakesperean dirge "Tears of Rage"? the somewhat aptly sappier "She's Leaving Home"? Not really the same thing, but about as close as vinyl empathy got back then. And, as bird says upthread, she's knocked "Angel" out of the park ever since, or often enough: Forever Old! But you can't make a whole album this good about age time etc. without living it, as Alfred (Soto) indicated at the beginning of his Pitchfork review, and that's not enough, of course: she's got the songs, maybe most of which were written by much younger people--but who feels it knows it, at least some of the time, and she knew when.

Give It Up was another time-peak---giving herself something to live up to, ever after--while looking back at what she'd learned and aimed for in the 60s and even earlier 70s, was looking toward in the early 70s and beyond, in a moment of sustained balance---wise as a young woman's album and statement could be, limited by that, in a fine way, and antipodal to this album---if you gotta live that long, this is the way to do it. (The capper: following all that accomplished affirmation with "Love Has No Pride"---gotta be ready for the ugly truth too, incl. its musical allure.)

And now here's a live set, Alright at Midnight, from 1976: seems like a good soundboard(?)bootleg, with no info nowhere (except that it's on the Pipe Dream label), and for openers we join "Sweet Home Kokomo" already in progress, but good slide appetizer, and all other tracks seem complete. She follows a totally earned ("Righteous," we said back then)"Love Me Like A Man" with a totally earned as in guilty af "Run Like A Thief," also we get a very tense "My First Night With You," the xpost "Thank You." Bicentennial funk interjections, flashlights of electric piano (didn't catch the name but she says "He's been playing with Van Morrison), Freebo's bass and tuba, conga ration, a couple of simplified arrangements ("Give It Up Or Let Me Go, "Under The Falling Sky") which totally work---plenty but not too much guitar from Raitt and Will McFarlane, also one of my fave vocals here (even before she hits those high notes) is on A. Toussaint's' "What Do You Want The Boy To Do"---it's 1976, these are the songs she's got!