JOHN GRANT - “QUEEN OF DENMARK” review

JOHN GRANT - “QUEEN OF DENMARK”
Review by Rick Zeigler

“And my head feels like/it’s filled to the top/with Pop Rocks and cyanide.” The contrast between cyanide and Pop Rocks, both of which are “in his head,” nicely encapsulates Grant’s lyrical approach of combining child-like and adult concerns in his remarkable solo record Queen Of Denmark.  Addressing topics such as lost love, self-doubt, suicide, and more lost love, Grant constantly uses the emotions and memories of childhood and youthful concerns (e.g., movies, ice cream) to provide a unique context for outlining his current state of mind. Queen Of Denmark then takes this lyrical approach and places it in the musical surroundings familiar to soft-rock records of the seventies (crystal clean production, acoustic picking, tinkling pianos). The result is both gorgeous and intellectually engaging. Grant, ex-frontman of the Czars, also brings unexpected elements of humor to topics that most would consider rather humorless. In “Where Dreams Go To Die,” Grant sings to his soon-to-be-lost lover, “Baby, you’re where dreams go to die/And I regret the day/Your lovely carcass caught my eye.” When sung in his three-octave spanning voice, and with a melody that recalls the Carpenters, the phrase sounds both funny and stunningly forlorn. Queen Of Denmark opens with some beautiful acoustic guitar, light percussion, and Grant’s great voice, singing a song of the promise of finding your “one and only” in an almost short-story format (“T.C. came onto the scene…”).  This is followed by “Marz,” in which Grant ticks off the many flavors of ice cream and shakes at his childhood drugstore, all in the service of a power ballad recalling a type of contentment that no longer exists for him (e.g., “…and your sweet 16 is waiting for you after the show”).  “Signourney Weaver” is another off-beat tale, wherein Grant outlines his feelings of adult confusion (homosexuality pops up as a recurring theme) by comparing his state of mind to popular entertainment (from his youth), as in feeling like he’s “in a prison like the one you would find in the Twilight Zone,” and comparing himself to the title character in Aliens, as well as to Winona Ryder “in that movie about vampires, the one where she couldn’t get that accent right.” “Chicken Bones” take the opening quote from this review and embeds it in a melody reminiscent of both nursery rhymes and Nilsson. But in all cases, the depth of what Grant is feeling is never in doubt, as his ability to beautifully sing the most casual or intricately woven melodies constantly yields fresh pleasures. Combined with outstanding musical (and harmony) backing from the members of Midlake, summoning up the ghosts of Elton John, Supertramp, Bread, and many other seventies luminaries, Queen Of Denmark is, simply put, one of the most unique and lyrically stimulating albums this reviewer has heard in many a moon.

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