Sugar Queen (reviewed by Lisa Borden)

Sugar High

This gleaming little disc, Sugar Queen, arrived in my hand like a newly opened invitation. “Where we goin?” I wondered, as I popped it in the stereo. Looking back, I can see that some warning signs would have been appreciated. “Incredibly beautiful yet indescribably painful road ahead!” I would have at least known to protect my heart a little better before we started off.

Sugar Queen is a journey to visit some of life’s hard questions. Fear, disease, disillusionment, death, divorce and horrible hate crimes are some of the characters we meet along the way in this collection of (not very fictional) tales. Resolve, faithfulness, hope, courage, and the endlessly persistent presence of a resilient joy are the counterparts that don’t allow the album to get dark. There is no black murkiness here threatening to smother us. On the contrary, the pain paints up the colors of life more clearly. Life is celebrated and honored and respected throughout and I arrive on the other side of the journey feeling a new energy to embrace it.

End of the Beginning starts us off. While my little girl likes to walk around singing the line “You are my lover and my friend,” my favorite line is “and that’s all I’m prepared to say.” I like the double edge of the message from a heart that is both exposing and protecting at once.

Childish Things follows, dressed nicely in its new kit. It shines.

Woman’s Touch is a wonderful “conqueror the damsels” song. What woman in her right mind would not want this song sung to her?

Sugar Queen is a kind of a sassy song. It has a very cool feel.

These Days follows Brian’s body to the record shop, and his heart to the place where his love keeps growing. “These days I’ve got a brand new vision of you...” A new perspective brings new appreciation.

Ballad of Mathew Shepherd is too much for me to take. Does anyone remember Pat Benetar’s “Hell is for Children” song? I never could take that either. When a song deals with such a serious issue I find that I either have to stop everything and listen carefully, or skip it. It simply cannot be background music. Preciously beautiful as it is, I often skip over it in a maneuver called self-protection. But that shouldn’t keep you from listening to it. It’s stunning.

Chase the Devil and Fields of Heaven are coupled in my mind. The first one says that life is really hard but, in it all, I have you. “Your love is like a fire in the desert at midnight.” The second song says that life is really hard but, in it all, you’ve got me. “On your longest day, through your darkest night, I’ve a light and it shines for you.”

Good News Junkie is another song restored from (many) albums ago. The guitar plays quietly in a perfect match with the introspective lyrics of disillusionment with others and with self.

Out of the Ruins sings of the hope that hope might yet rise again. Life after destruction? “It’s just a house, she said, and she walked out the door. She left the memories for dead, like the dust on the floor.” And yet, hope lifts her head.

Then comes Red Badge of Courage. This song undid me. In the middle of the laundry I was folding, I lay down and wept. There’s a mysterious verb called “cherish” that women want done to them. Brian cherishes his lady in this song, but it’s more than that. There is admiration and devotion and honor all mixed in. It’s beautiful and brilliant.

And then, to ensure we aren’t left in a mess of tears, the bonus live track, New Year Baby, reminds us of what a night with Brian is all about. Moving lyrics in contagious and captivating tunes, blended together with a healthy dose of Houston humor and the album rounds off just right.

I don’t eat much sugar as it makes me feel kinda sick, but I take this album in frequent, plentiful helpings. Put another kettle on, then, and let’s dig in ?