Nellie McKay has an inexplicable way of annoying critics. It’s even more curious considering they usually give her pretty high marks.
After gritting their teeth about being “gratingly cute” (debut – Keep Away From Me) and a “brat” (Pretty Little Head), the reviewers usually get around to begrudgingly offering kudos toward McKay’s sunny, pre-rock n’ roll fantasia mixed with tart, clever lyrics. It seems they don’t want to be outsmarted by a blonde girl-next-door, who behind the jazzy coos and pastel petticoats, might be hiding a chainsaw. They don’t know if she seriously loved Kurt Weill’s Threepenny Opera (in which she appeared on stage in 2007) or if all this vintage songwriting and cutesy tap-dancing was some sort of ironic flash dance.
So, on last fall’s charming Doris Day-tribute, “Normal As Blueberry Pie,” one wonders whether McKay just decided to save everyone the tut-tut-tuts and take the spotlight off her and put it solely on Day—which she does convincingly all throughout the album chronicling both hits and rarities from the iconic star of screen and song. From the sparse, artistic arrangements (a piano line here, a ukulele there) to her rosy, full-bodied vocals which can both bounce with whimsy and mesmerize like a swinging incandescent lanterns on a summer’s night, McKay exudes affection for Day, a patron for the New York City-based McKay, who (like Day) is a passionate animal rights activist.
In terms of sharing the stage, McKay never steals the show—which actually makes her the star. By creating both an intimate tribute as well as a record that couldn’t have been produced before the 21st Century, McKay becomes the captivating supporting actress you search on IMBD.com when you get home.
Rock Garden Tour fans, however, will delight most in her cover of Day’s “Black Hills of Dakota,” which first appeared in 1953’s film “Calamity Jane,” starring Day as everyone’s favorite eponymous gun-toting badgirl. It’s unclear how much McKay knows of Calamity Jane (after all, the focus is on Day here) but the two share the agony of putting together a persona the public (or at least some) refuse to believe is real. With McKay, there are the critics who have in the past insisted her wink-and-grin version of mid-century jazz standards is a double-dogging put-on. Similarly, Calamity Jane had to endure posthumous taunts that her gun-slinging tomboyishness was greatly over-exaggerated, and then there’s that whole being-buried-next-to-Wild-Bill thing…
But, the biographical details aside, McKay’s “Black Hills of Dakota” is likely the album’s strongest track (next to opener “The Very Thought of You” and closer “I Remember You”). What’s most intriguing on this tune is McKay’s intricate, even dissonant arrangement—which includes a backing of tom toms and flutes. It’s hard not to feel a hokey “pow wow” feel coming on. But McKay’s introverted, even solemn vocal (there’s just her, no three-part chorus-line harmonies) gives this version a wary-eyed nostalgia not present in the rousing original—an all-sing aboard a wagon train. At once, McKay has made “Black Hills of Dakota” feel more heartbreaking in terms of its honesty and beauty than the original.
Now, no one knows if McKay’s been to the Hills—if not, we now have a lovely opportunity for her to visit. I hear the Charlie Utter Theatre has got great acoustics. But, then again, judging by the multiple “South Dakota Rejects Animal Rights Activists” billboards, it may be best if she flies into the Rapid City airport.
The revolution will be as normal as blueberry Pop-Tarts.
Cousin Christopher teaches college kids how to write. He also plays keyboard in the Rock Garden Tour Family Band and eats at the Spink Cafe.
Comments