With The Journey, Danie Syre takes the listener on a musical travelogue. But this is no kind of, ‘I just won the Super Bowl. Now I’m going to Disneyland,’ happy trek. Instead, it’s one woman’s journal of a hard fought life. “I’m on a solitary ride, all on my own,” she admits during the CD’s title track. And, indeed, she sure sounds like she’s going it alone.
Two tracks deal with the deaths of important, inspirational figures. One of these folks was influential at a distance, the other one much, much closer to home. Over a sadly swaying beat, along with weepy, backing vocal ‘oohs,’ Syre says a farewell to this iconic torch singer that she (Cline) will never hear. “So I’m calling out to Patsy Cline, wish you were around,” she reaches back to her idol. Syre describes two different Patsy Clines: one was the singer of familiar songs during Syre’s youth, the other is now a wise veteran and colleague. When Syre admits, “I’m so much older now and I understand the pain,” this line is sung by someone who – much like Cline – knows a bit about living with hurt. Syre recognizes that Cline’s work suggested the depth of a singer/songwriter, even though she didn’t write her own songs and came along long before the singer/songwriter genre came into vogue. However, Syre still recognizes Cline as a fellow troubadour, and rightfully so.
With “Before You Go”, Syre sings a song to her dying father. Its lyric is something only a daughter could honestly express. “You’ve held me since I was born/Now I hold you until you’re gone.” Her dad was also a fellow musician, as his painted portrait where he’s seen picking an acoustic guitar, accompanies the lyric in the CD booklet. It’s one thing to sing an ode to Patsy Cline; it’s quite another thing to send your only father into the great beyond with song. “I’ve cried and prayed,” she admits at one point, “just let me get through this song.” Saying goodbye to one’s parents is the hardest thing a son or daughter will ever have to do, and nothing is easy about performing “Before You Go” for Syre.
The Journey is a tough work to easily categorize stylistically. While “Isn’t It A Shame?” and “Beautiful Melancholy” bounce along like the a few of the lighter, more country moments of Bob Dylan’s Blood on the Tracks, something like “Guilt” is different altogether with its layered backing music, including gypsy fiddle. Without a doubt, Dylan casts a big shadow over Syre’s art. In fact, “Poet Man” is another musical tribute, this time praising the crazy and beautiful poetry of Bob Dylan. But no matter the musical bed, Syre has a distinctively penetrating voice. In fact, the opening song, “Beautiful Melancholy”, sums up her natural instrument nicely. Everything she sings comes out a little melancholy, as if sadness just cannot hide its face whenever she digs into any song.
Although Syre’s inner sadness is inescapable, she is by no means an entirely sad person. For instance, “Angels” is a beautiful love song that longs for a chance to thank the angels for her loving man. With a sparse arrangement, which once again puts fiddle to good use, Syre gives her thanks over a slow and thoughtful track where honky-tonk piano also plays a large role. Toward the end of the song, however, Syre takes a few liberties with her human-to-angel face time by requesting a little more peace on Earth. “If I could talk to angels, I’d let them know/That the world needs more love we need it so.”
Syre may be on a solitary ride, equipped with a strong and honest set of original songs, but if you decide to hitchhike a ride with the singer/songwriter, chances are good your ride may not feel quite so lonely. This is because she’s a friend who understands.
Review by Dan MacIntosh
