As a songwriter and performer, Mary Chapin Carpenter has long since transcended the traditional notions of genre and style, finding widespread acclaim for her poetic, elegantly - observed compositions. The Calling, her first release for Rounder, is the most topical album she's made in her twenty-year career. While it unequivocally addresses issues both public and political - from the after-effects of Hurricane Katrina to religious zealotry to the trial-by-radio of the Dixie Chicks -- there is also something deeply personal about this extraordinary collection of songs. The album is a powerful, provocative meditation on the mysteries of fate and circumstance, which mingles timeless questions with contemporary issues. Introspective, defiant and deeply resonant, The Calling is a profound set from one of modern songwriting's most distinctive voices. – Amazon

Tracks:
01. The Calling 04:18
02. We're All Right 03:48
03. Twilight 04:31
04. It Must Have Happened 04:05
05. On And On It Goes 04:21
06. Your Life Story 04:21
07. Houston 05:46
08. Leaving Song 04:02
09. On With The Song 03:58
10. Closer And Closer Apart 04:32
11. Here I Am 04:18
12. Why Shouldn't We 05:05
13. Bright Morning Star 04:55

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One thing is certain: Mary Chapin Carpenter has heard the sound of the new Nashville. She brings the electric guitars and she brings her Martin; she allows the mix to bring up those drums and basslines. She's no longer afraid of rock & roll as long as it blends with her brand of folkish country. After years of walking the outside, despite a hit record or two, seemingly afraid to really let it rip, she has arrived here, on The Calling. Oh yeah, yeah, that's a good thing; it may even be a great thing. Carpenter has always allowed her songwriting to take precedence over her recorded performances, and even though her album performances have sometimes been stellar, they've also been just a little too restrained. The title track that opens The Calling and "We're All Right" rock harder than anything she's ever cut. The beautiful thing is that with the bigger volume and the loosed electric six-strings, her big voice has more room and those killer hooks she writes don't disappear in the mix. They come off sounding like the anthems they should be. Carpenter has a hell of a way of looking at life from all sides, from behind the closed doors, from the empty lanes and the darkening countryside. She has always had a special way of looking at fate and destiny from the perch of those lives that hold on with only a shred of hope but refuse to give up or let go. That eagerness to survive in the face of all odds, or to affirm the essential goodness of a moment where one of her protagonists can simply breathe, has been her art. She does this better than most and is second to none in her picaresque narratives of the wish to be free, and of embracing freedom as an alternative to despair. And while the music has never matched the tautness of her lyrics, it does here. That doesn't mean the gentleness is all gone. On "Twilight" (a song James Taylor or Nanci Griffith should beg her to cover), the acoustic guitars, vibraphone, cajon (by Russ Kunkel, no less), and electrics blend gently but empathically. "On and On It Goes" is another ballad, loaded with emotion but delivered with the empathy of an old friend imparting a story. The huge drums on "It Must Have Happened" are, along with the title cut, sure bets for videos and singles. This cut just rocks in the way Sugarland rock, straight up, fat, with a message and enough heart to fill a Bruce Springsteen record. The refrain is utterly gorgeous. The jangling Rickenbackers on "Your Life Story" is another candidate for a single. The bottom line, as the album unfolds -- whether it's "On with the Song," (written for the Dixie Chicks during their season in hell and an actual anthem), the sweet electric ballad "Why Shouldn't We," or the whispering closer "Bright Morning Star" -- is that it never ceases not only to please, but to pull the listener deeper into Carpenter's wide-ranging poetic world. Time will tell, of course, but in The Calling, Carpenter may have her finest moment yet; it also feels like an artistic rebirth. These songs come from her marrow and the conviction she sings them with proves it. Carpenter and her co-producer Matt Rollings should be awfully proud of this one. Review by Thom Jurek, AMG

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Amazon.com In recent years, Mary Chapin Carpenter--once among the most promising stars of the folkie infiltration of Nashville ("Down at the Twist and Shout," "I Feel Lucky")--abandoned all desire to dot the country music charts. Free of that ill-fitting yoke she returned to being what she really was all along: A literate acoustic singer-songwriter. In 2004, she released a tour de force, Between Here and Gone, which combined affecting social commentary on the events of 9/11 with personal meditations on her changed life as a married woman living in rural Virginia. The Calling picks up where that album left off, using the same co-producer, pianist Matt Rollings, and core musicians, including John Jennings, who helped Carpenter shape her sonic landscape some 20 years ago. If the new album goes farther in advocating a political conscience--"On with the Song" takes jabs at the jingoistic rubes who dissed the Dixie Chicks, while "Why Shouldn't We" insists we'll have worthy heroes in office again one day--it largely invokes the same quiet, warm, and conversational tone as its predecessor. On the whisper-soft "Twilight," which frames a perfect, peaceful evening with a nearly spiritual grace, a listener might easily imagine himself chatting with the artist about long-held secrets and shared experiences, the Blue Ridge Mountains looming in the background. That is part of Carpenter’s gift--connecting with her audience's shadow self, using her deeply nuanced alto to fill even the simplest words with profound knowing. As a pure craftsman, however, she ranks with the giants of past generations in capturing the small, bruised hearts seemingly lost in the chaos of a catastrophic event. "Houston," one such song here, recalls Woody Guthrie's great "Deportee" in its power and the pathos of the Hurricane Katrina victims who were forced to evacuate their homes, leaving everything behind but fear and hope. "Mama's got her baby/Sleeping in a grocery cart," it begins, at once setting up a picture of wrenching desperation. Carpenter, no stranger to blue moods herself, knows how tough it is to emerge from a dark period of pained restlessness to find one's very self again. The album's soothing closer, "Bright Morning Star," like much of the record as a whole, offers a beacon of light and safe harbor for those shipwrecked on life's rocky shores. --Alanna Nash

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Original News:
The Calling: Mary Chapin Carpenter on Coquet-Shack.com