Beth Nielsen Chapman- Hearts of Glass
a review by Nat Bourgon
February 21st, 2018
Link: Official Lyric Video for "Epitaph for Love"
Link: Official Lyric Video for "You're Still My Valentine"
Twenty years ago, in the thick of 1998’s refreshing
den of candor, Beth Nielsen Chapman was entrusted as the usher of our emotions,
elegantly guiding us in song through that climatic moment when Joey Potter’s
perpetual hankering for Dawson Leery finally became corporeal. Indeed, it was
Nielsen Chapman’s quivering, professing piano tearjerker “Say Goodnight” that
had the privilege of chaperoning Dawson and Joey’s first legitimate lip lock on
Dawson’s Creek that was not indebted to a peer initiated dare. Their previous
kiss could be chalked up to a provocative game of "truth or dare", featuring
friends engaging in some proverbial button pushing for kicks. Nielsen Chapman’s
“Goodnight” ruminatively reflects the ethos of built-up, sweaty feelings obtaining a newfound
outlet for release, highly sought-after for eons. “Say Goodnight” is the soundtrack of incarcerated
feelings, seemingly wasted in a state of restraint, kept at arm’s length for
ages, tardily getting that long-awaited, overdue chance at emancipation, at
free rein. Listening to “Say Goodnight”, you can hear the legion of hours Joey
had spent pining for Dawson to see her as a woman, as the chosen love partner,
as opposed to just an occasional confidant and semi-regular movie night buddy. More
importantly, you hear that incomparable juncture when timing and reciprocation
affiliate at last. “Say Goodnight” is a well-informed barometer, confirming that
Beth Chapman Nielsen excels at transmitting a narration of sounds, words, and
vocalizations that underline and cognize our "off the record" soul-based
sentiments, shepherding them to greater visibility to our own selves.
For most, Dawson’s Creek has long been more
a nostalgia-inducing memory than a contemporary fixation, but I find that I am
increasingly seeking out music that keeps the series’ starry-eyed, romantic
temperament, earthy, earnest vantage point, and disrobed, exposed personal
storytelling at the fore of its intentions. Right on cue, when 2018 needs her the most, Beth Nielsen Chapman
has resurfaced with a new album, “Hearts of Glass”, which quenches the thirst
of the dehydrated, malnourished fragments of our love languages that were
formerly equipped and ajar to possibility's gratuities, but turned idle and became unfulfilled from evaded promises. Emerging with leadership acumen, like a clerk that has, in time and reputation, earned the trust, readiness and respect imperative for managerial duties, and supplied with an enterprise of benevolence worth laying it on the line for, the album encourages unabashed vulnerability,
and consents to imperfection’s generous profit. “Hearts of Glass” finds
Nielsen Chapman largely substituting her usual contraption of choice, the
piano, for guitar, and tailoring her sometimes-methodical vocal
delivery to the more spacious, less circumscribed sonic flavor of the record,
thus allowing the raw, organic humanness of her voice to materialize more habitually.
“Hearts of Glass” is comprised of
several re-workings of songs from her back catalogue, dating back to 1990, now
rerouted in the new aforementioned, guitar-centric aesthetic, Beth’s own debut
of a few tracks that she wrote but were originally recorded by other artists,
and best of all, four all-new songs that confirm Nielsen Chapman as a leading
writer and conductor of songs that mentor our hearts and enlighten our imaginations.
“Hearts of Glass” speaks to our inner architects of creativity and
interpersonal association within, the parts of us that are animatedly constructing
and remodeling the mural of our afterwards.
Leading off the album is the instrumentally
auroral, mood hoisting, expeditious “Come to Mine.” A Nielsen Chapman co-write
with Graham Gouldman and Kevin Montgomery, the tune possesses a lyrical commitment
to still viewing the world with a sense of wonder and optimism, even in the
face of distressing, demoralizing going concerns. Nielsen Chapman composes
helpfulness and kinship from separation’s shadows, choosing to cement the
binding ties and build community, rather than allow her hesitancies and
oversights to dispel her hope and isolate her. The weightlessness of the shuffle-like,
oft-zingy rhythm slightly disarms the burden and affliction of Beth’s words in
a welcomed manner, soliciting for equilibrium of tone.
Career highlight “Epitaph for Love” makes a
compelling case that we don’t need to wait until a funeral’s eulogy to dish out
some highly warranted appreciation to love. “Epitaph” urges that we can and
should honour and compliment love when it is an active and functional factor,
in its prime. Here, Nielsen Chapman implies that perhaps by acknowledging and
praising love when it is in a state of resounding wellness, we will stand a
better chance of preserving love’s longevity, and sustaining its inimitable,
unparagoned virtue. Soothing yet pensive acoustic guitars, atmospheric, wavy
production choices (courtesy of producer Sam Ashworth’s essential imprint) and
one of the most immersive, devout, involved vocal takes of Nielsen Chapman’s career
compile to yield a song that carries the enchanting, sensitive, soul-touching spirit
of Dawson’s Creek that I’ve been intently seeking. But, gratefully, “Epitaph
for Love” is no wall-to-wall “Creek” retrospective. It also contains several untrodden,
differentiating, counter-melodic musical ideas (including the prickly strings
that lurk anticipatorily in the distance) that catapult Beth Nielsen’s
Chapman’s artistry to the next level, and position her as a reaching sculptor of
song with an adept willingness. “Epitaph” situates Nielsen Chapman as
voluntarily engaged in a continuing quest to enroll her songwriting learning
curve in unheralded classes on unexplored countryside backroads, penetrating
prospect’s mystique, while convincingly vouching for the verity of her
instrumental and poetic brand of intonation that she has been gradually
clarifying and improving since her early 90’s musical inception.
“You’re Still My Valentine” is a
consummation of and adherence to that heavier clause of the wedding vows that
asks for shatterproof commitment and allegiance no matter what, whether “in
sickness or in health.” Playing as a declaration of love and reaffirmation of
loyalty to her husband, who was in the throes of a serious battle, fighting for
his health, “Valentine” is a bluesy, rickety stunner, led by Nielsen Chapman’s
spacey, trance-like electric piano. An after-hours buzz of strung out unrest
pervades, emboldened by the appearances of Mark Hill’s spooky, zonked electric
bass. An amiss, convoluted timbre is at work here musically, echoing the
uncertainty and strain of her husband’s condition. The spectral, apprehensive
mood of the instrumentation and production delightfully runs in inverse to
Nielsen Chapman’s worshipful, devoted lyrics of reinforcement, directed to her
husband, and her affectionate, empathetic vocal inflection. Wisely, Nielsen
Chapman sings “Valentine” from the deep-dug burrows of her register, which is
where her voice is most piercing.
Beth Nielsen Chapman’s new record “Hearts
of Glass” is a formative, expert-like exercise of noble craftsmanship, subtle
inventiveness, and authenticity, with an awakened, resonant complexion. “Hearts
of Glass” elongates, refines, and introduces both sonically, lyrically,
vocally, and emotionally, espousing a principled, democratic approach to
mediating between consistency and elasticity. Self-awareness, daydreaming,
compassion, simplicity, entanglement and reality are all spoken for lucidly on
“Hearts of Glass”, elevating it to Beth Nielsen Chapman’s most satisfying
full-length album since her 2002 zenith, “Deeper Still.” Dawson and Joey have
long vanquished from our small screens, but the breadth of their profound soulmate
connection, and the solace and snags of their love continue to live on robustly
in the new songs of Beth Nielsen Chapman. Beth's new record not only
encapsulates the lineament and hallmarks of Dawson’s Creek’s stormy, yet altruistic
essence. "Hearts of Glass" is a soul-nurturing, love-curating, musically sightly album. It is also the sound of a seasoned, hungry artist
three decades into her career, as curious and open to dabbling as ever,
lyrically furnishing us with love’s precedence, musically endowing us with
memorable modulations that fluctuate between concordant and swollen, and
filling our hearts of glass with a voice so gutsy, so trustworthy, that it can
break through even the most stern solid.
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