Three decades after debut Living With Ghosts, Patty Griffin’s songwriting only seems to grow richer and more intense with time. The only drawback, if we’re being pedantic here, is that sometimes you have to wait for it. Discounting 2022’s Tape – a bunch of home demos and rarities – Crown Of Roses is her first new album in six years.
Three decades after debut Living With Ghosts, Patty Griffin’s songwriting only seems to grow richer and more intense with time. The only drawback, if we’re being pedantic here, is that sometimes you have to wait for it. Discounting 2022’s Tape – a bunch of home demos and rarities – Crown Of Roses is her first new album in six years.
Griffin’s regular producer and bassist Craig Ross returns too, as does guitarist David Pulkingham, with another long-term ally, drummer Michael Longoria, completing her core band. It’s a musical understanding that feels deeply intuitive, draping these songs in delicate textures and subtle colours. With its scratchy groove and percussive shuffle, “Back At The Start” is about as busy as they get, but it’s a masterclass in the persuasive power of less is more. Similarly, “I Know A Way” – which evolves from droning guitar to humid gospel, with electric piano by Terry Allen’s son, Bukka – is all the more striking for its thoughtful build, as Griffin’s vocal banks into an exhilarating catharsis.
For the most part, Crown Of Roses succeeds via its concentrated hush, a rootless simmer that suggests the imminent arrival of a full storm. It’s there in the quietly tempestuous strings of “The End”, wherein cancer survivor Griffin acknowledges the cost of endurance: “There’s more scars on me now/That you can’t get around”. And the outstanding “Way Up To The Sky”, as Griffin – accompanied only by acoustic guitar – sings of raising kids, frayed nerves, seasonal cycles and a life blazing by. It’s possibly about her mother (whose portrait adorns the album cover), but is a wider hymn to parenthood and selflessness.
And while former beau Robert Plant sings backing vocals on restorative prayer “Long Time”, the truly wonderful “All The Way Home” feels like the album’s statement piece. Here, against flamenco guitar and hammered dulcimer, Griffin aligns herself to outsiders everywhere, in service to an itinerant creative spirit: “I’ve had enough rest and dust in my chest/I need music and smoke on the wind.”
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