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TIME: Almanac 1995
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TIME Almanac 1995.iso
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1994-03-25
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<text id=93TT1255>
<title>
Mar. 22, 1993: Reviews:Music
</title>
<history>
TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1993
Mar. 22, 1993 Can Animals Think
</history>
<article>
<source>Time Magazine</source>
<hdr>
REVIEWS, Page 74
MUSIC
A Series of Dreams
</hdr>
<body>
<p>By JAY COCKS
</p>
<qt>
<l>PERFORMER: Daniel Lanois</l>
<l>ALBUM: For The Beauty Of Wynona</l>
<l>LABEL: Warner Bros.</l>
</qt>
<p> THE BOTTOM LINE: A producer turned performer takes an
eerie, rhapsodic journey through American pop myth.
</p>
<p> If you know Daniel Lanois at all, it's probably because
you've read the credits on such superb albums as Peter Gabriel's
So (1986), U2's The Joshua Tree (1987) and Achtung Baby (1991),
Robbie Robertson's eponymous solo album (1987) and Bob Dylan's
Oh Mercy! (1989). Lanois produced, or co-produced, all of
those. But, on current evidence, he did significantly more than
run levels and read meters. Those albums share an occasional
brotherhood of sound--hard, lovely, otherworldly--but more
significant, they are each rounded with a dream, part funky and
part fantastic, that makes them seep into the subconscious, then
permeate the waking state. They are, in the title phrase from
one of the splendid Dylan songs that Lanois produced, a Series
of Dreams.
</p>
<p> Collaboration at this level, with this kind of intensity,
imparts its own reciprocal coloration. If Lanois gave these
disparate artists a certain sympathetic unity of sound, he took
from them a kind of thematic restlessness and artistic
recklessness. He then applied those qualities to Acadie (1989),
his wondrous first solo album as songwriter, singer and
guitarist. They are in even more abundant supply here. For the
Beauty of Wynona--named for a Canadian town close to where
Lanois grew up--has a tougher rhythmic core than its
predecessor. The title track takes off on a wild excursion from
ballad to jams-out jam to a kind of interplanetary raga that is
emblematic of the entire album-length adventure. The sound is
spooky, seductive and scintillating.
</p>
<p> With Daryl Johnson on bass and Ronald Jones on drums,
Lanois has the benefit of the kind of rich rhythm section that
can be both goad and guide. When a musical phrase or lyric
passage threatens to send Lanois off into deep space, Johnson
and Jones can pull him back; when he's revising tradition, as
on Indian Red, a kind of New Orleans gumbo classic, they help
him explore musical byways that can bring him home again along
a brand new route. If Highway 61 ran past Cape Canaveral, Lanois
would be singing at the crossroads.
</p>
<p> If For the Beauty of Wynona has a unifying theme, it's a
kind of blind-alley search for love in a world that changes
before it can barely be experienced. Still Learning How to Crawl
takes this theme of sentimental education and extends it past
the age of anxiety into a kind of perpetual present tense,
where lessons learned lead only to renewed uncertainty. Death
of a Train has a real undertow of prairie melancholy, and The
Unbreakable Chain is a little like a Lanois echo of Series of
Dreams, a rhythmic rumination on the elisions of fantasy and
desire.
</p>
<p> Lanois' music is nowhere near as heavy, however, as what
can be made of it. One of his great gifts--which he shares
with all those luminaries from his production days--is a deft
spirit and a light touch. He can rock out when he's of a mind
and yet can capture, whenever he likes, certain fragile
qualities that elude the rhythmic tonnage of most contemporary
music. Lanois has a kind of tensile fragility: you can hear it
in the uninsistent mesmerism of his voice as well as in the
sorcery of his songs. He schooled himself with some illustrious
teachers, but made himself unique. With Wynona, he goes straight
to the head of the class.
</p>
</body>
</article>
</text>