Diamanda Galas's most recent album finds her in a somewhat less abrasive mode than those in which we have witnessed her before; gone, but certainly not forgotten, are the blood-drenched castigator/rebel of Plague Mass, the grief-shreiking caged animal of "Shrei X" and even the sleep-with-one-eye-open funky chanteuse of The Sporting Life (her excellent collaboration with former Led Zeppelin bassist John Paul Jones). Rather, Malediction and Prayer exhibits a softer - albeit no less confrontational and by no means watered-down - Galas, one content to spend an evening singing blues and supplications accompanied only by her piano.
Malediction ... , with its stripped down, underblown arrangements (and recorded during her Malediction and Prayer American Tour) might serve nicely as a companion piece, or even a sequel to The Singer, her last album of straight-forward standards and gut wrenching translations (she has particular penchant - and talent - for translating the works of Baudelaire into either heart-breaking or heart stopping musical pieces, a la "The Litanies of Satan.") But while "The Singer" focused primarily on gospel and blues standards, Malediction ... finds Galas expanding her repertoire to include Motown classics ("My World is Empty Without You") even grittier blues (her revamped version of Willie Dixon's "Insane Asylum, which also appeared on The Singer) and some standards (T.A. Dorsey's "I'm Gonna Live the Life"). She even brings a welcome dose of gallows humor to her rendition of Johnny Cash's "25 Minutes to Go" (which, along with "Iron Lady" present a one-two punch against the death penalty) and throws a pinch of Nina Simone into her translations of poems by Pasolini ("Supplica a Mia Madre") and Miguel Huezo Mixco ("Si La Muerte"). The album concludes with a new version of "Gloomy Sunday," a funereal, sonorous dirge that, like "Insane Asylum" appeared on The Singer (on Malediction ... you'll hear the crowd go nuts as it recognizes the opening chords of the tune, and when she's done, you'll be ready to march down to the boneyard or anywhere with her).
Though a slight departure from her oeuvre, all the familiar Diamanda themes signal their presence on Malediction ... : the (mis)treatment of the mentally ill, the raging injustice of state-sponsored murder, the ravages of AIDS upon our national psyche (and the ravages of hypocrisy upon the inflicted) and the winning compassion for the overlooked and scorned that Galas brings to her every recording. While she plays more the balladeer here than the eviscerating siren whose unflinching, soul-piercing gaze won us over years ago, she loses none of her power to compel, to move, to sadden and to disturb. A light touch, from the hands of a master, can pack as much impact as the fist-curled blow.
Sean Flinn | Spring, 1997
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