Anthem, the eighth album by jazz chanteuse Madeleine Peyroux, was conceived in the midst of the tumultuous 2016 presidential election and its dismal news cycle. While the unhinged political climate leaked into and inspired her writing and recording, Anthem isn’t a heavy-handed polemic designed to incite a revolution set to jazz accompaniment. It is, however, a baker’s dozen tracks that subtly and tastefully intertwine the personal and political without sacrificing any of Peyroux’s considerable charms as a composer or vocalist.
The most impressive part of Anthem is how Peyroux manages to tackle feelings of loneliness, despair, and personal and political angst – you know, fairly weighty issues – in a wry, not-quite-whimsical fashion that keeps things from wallowing in sorrow and gives the album a light touch that makes for an engaging and accessible listen.
This tone is set right out the gate with opening track “On My Own.” Sonically and vocally, it gives off a sense of whimsy, like a jazzy spin inspired by Paul McCartney’s verse on “A Day in the Life.” But when you listen to what she’s really saying, it’s not at all whimsical:
Outside where the day is bright
But nothing is real
I wander the city streets
Trying to remind myself
How it felt to feel
Oh, what am I missing here
Oh, something has disappeared
‘Cause I’m all alone
Like a pebble thrown
Into the great unknown
On my own
But even amidst loneliness and despair, there’s still a glimmer of hope. That’s where “Anthem” comes into play. The title track is a cover of the 1992 Leonard Cohen song. In the bio on her website, Peyroux notes that the tune became her own “personal anthem” and its sustained lyrical relevancy “tied together all the stories on the record.”
There’s probably more than a few thinkpieces on Cohen’s “Anthem,” its lyrical content, and what it all means, but for the purposes of contextualization with Peyroux, here’s a brief synopsis:
Basically, there’s lots of bad things going on in the world. But it’s always been that way and it always will be. While it’s easy to get wrapped up in the bad, “Don’t dwell on what has passed away or what is yet to be.” Instead, “Ring the bells that still can ring” and remember “There is a crack, a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.”
Peyroux’s rendition of “Anthem” maintains the sparse structure and vocal pattern of the original, while replacing the early ’90s synth and production values on Cohen’s version with a subtler piano-and-string arrangement. It’s a solemn affair, but one that lays out Peyroux’s headspace. That struggle in dealing with the bad while remembering to celebrate the good sets the tone for rest of Anthem.
“Brand New Deal” tackles the bad. The bossa nova undertone and sunny melody underpin a scathing social commentary on the empty promises of political charlatans using their position to further their own venality while destroying the lives of everyday people and our institutions.
Peyroux penned her own response on how she copes with that stress. “Might as Well Dance” comes up toward the end of Anthem, and it’s really her own personal spin on the themes first laid out by the Cohen cover. Peyroux acknowledges that it’s a bleak, bleak world right now and conditions aren’t going to immediately improve. That being said, she, you the listener, no one should wallow in misery and despair. Time is finite. Try to find some enjoyment while you can.
“You might as well dance, while the river is high. You might as well dance, before you kiss me goodbye,” Peyroux sings.
As far strategies to cope with life in 2018, dancing isn’t the worst idea.
