k.d. lang
Drag (Warner Bros. 46623)

She is arguably the world's greatest living singer, and sometimes k.d. lang makes an album that matches the sheer gorgeousness of her voice. I know everyone else in the world digs Ingenue, but I think Drag is even better, and so far, her greatest achievement. It works on so many levels, and manages to be deep as well as funny, without losing its balance.

It's as sonically warm and inviting as a big ol' grandma blanket and a mug of hot cocoa. It's as understanding as your best friend, before she stole your boyfriend, except this album won't betray you.

Critics immediately seized on the campiness: first off, there's k.d. on the cover, in drag, and then to twist the pun around, nearly all of the songs involve smoking (title check: "Don't Smoke in Bed," "Smoke Rings," "Smoke Dreams," "Your Smoke Screen," "My Last Cigarette," "Love is Like a Cigarette").

On paper it looks extremely tongue-in-cheek, and there's a certain element of that to the album, just enough to relieve the audaciousness of the concept. But beneath the surface is an album about addiction, using the smoking metaphor to explore relationship issues in a very surprising way.

Some of the tracks you'd expect to be the most intentionally campy, like "Theme From the Valley of the Dolls" and "The Air That I Breathe," are delivered in the most emotionally connected way possible—thoroughly definitive, k.d. in perfect form, the voice tearing through the songs, wringing things out of them you never knew were there. This is why it's pointless to ever try to cover a song k.d. lang has covered: there's no topping her. It's not just that the voice is so flawless, but also the way she gets into a song and really finds everything there that can be expressed.

Yes, she does "The Joker" by Steve Miller ("I'm a joker/I'm a smoker" etc.), and that's very funny, but it's also good in a way you wouldn't think that song could be. But then on a song like "My Old Addiction" (a David Wilcox song written about Chet Baker) she is devastating.

She does for me what all those old folks say Sinatra did for them, speaking to their real emotions, connecting directly with the listener in a nearly supernatural way. Sinatra does very little for me in that respect, only conjuring images of Joe Piscopo, which is never a welcome thing.

The slow songs are aching, and can wrench you into tears if they catch you in the wrong (right?) mood. The middle section of the album, from the soaring "Valley of the Dolls," the brief and brilliant "Your Smoke Screen," the interior epic "My Old Addiction," and climaxing in the shattering "Till the Heart Caves In," is simply put, one of the most brilliant strings of songs you're going to find on any album, especially a pop album from the '90s.

"Till the Heart Caves In," a lost Roy Orbison song, virtually channels the besunglassed one—by the time she hits the final chorus you're getting shivers: "How much is not enough, how much is through/How long will I be getting over you?/How much grief and sin/Till the heart caves in?"

Heavy high, and put across so fucking well. Helps to make Drag is possibly the best break-up album ever made, no offense to everyone who favors Chicago 18.

The sound is sophisticated and lush, using some of k.d.'s old country twang along with strings and luscious harmonies. It's spacious and live-sounding, a pleasant VH1-style album that unfolds like an unlicked cigarette paper with every listen. It's truly a work of art, offering new things every time you return to it.

My problem with Ingenue is that its shimmery perfection to me seems a bit cold in spots—Drag is so warm it's like getting burned with dad's cigarette.

Um, not that I'd know what that feels like. No really, I'm fine, I just accidentally dropped a match on myself again.

Loud Bassoon rating scale

Review by Pooper Scooper