Harry Connick Jr.'s "She"

I have written a lot about “groove” and the “pocket” and “feel” on these Music Mondays posts over the past three years. Indeed, as far as I am concerned (and remember that I am a drummer), the most important thing in music is the groove. Genre is secondary.

There is one album that stands among the very best when it comes to modeling what it means to be in the pocket such that the groove is front and center at every turn. That album Harry Connick Jr.’s “She.”

Released in 1994, this album received very mixed reviews when it first came out. More of a soulful funk meets R&B album than the traditional jazz fare of Connick’s career up to that point, it definitely surprised fans who were expecting yet another instance of what they had come to love about Connick.

I actually think that this reception is fair given that fans almost always want their favorite artist to do more of what made them fans in the first place. But, notice how self-seeking this approach actually is. Love, at its most basic, should desire freedom and creative expansion for the beloved. Love does not stifle. It does not present a straightjacket so that the beloved can’t escape. And if it does, then that is not love (except maybe for that one Looney Tunes character who wants to hug and squeeze and call everything that he loves, “George.”

True love, though, is about being open to the novelty that comes from free expression and honest self growth. Well, usually. I genuinely like the band Paramore and yet their new stuff just suuuuuuuuccccckkkkkks, so I really wish they would go back to their early days when they were not middle aged and boring. Ugh.

Anyway, “She” is unlike anything that Connick had done and so invited confusion more than scorn. Yet, for my money, it is hands down his best album. Except for a couple strange filler tracks about “following the music,” this thing is perfect from start to finish. And, what continues to just floor me about it is that every note is perfect. Every drum fill, every piano lick, every bass turn around, every guitar overlay, every background vocal. Every note is where it needs to be and any change would be a change for the worse. Seriously, just listen to the opening track’s opening bars:

That bassline slaps, the drum fill to enter is just understated gold, and then the piano and guitar come in without overpowering anything. Vocal entries can be complicated and yet everything drops to let Harry Connick’s famous voice find its stride and welcome the listener home. The turn around from the first chorus to the second verse is also a work of genius - notice how every instrument trades off and the guitar which has been in the background then stands out to bring the vocal back in. Good grief. This is perfect. And that is not even to mention the production quality - somehow every instrument sounds fat and yet cuts through. Oh, and then an organ solo - can I get an “Amen” for the B3?!?!

The next track, “Between Us,” is my favorite on the album when it comes to lyrics. But again, pay attention to the understated and complementary instrumentation at the opening. And somehow the drums are spot on time and yet feel like they are half a second back the whole time. Again, can someone say “pocket”?! Boom.

This track just sounds like what I hope is true for my relationship with my wife. No matter what comes and whatever the future holds, we are good. Listen to his words:

In an age of greys
When wrong won't become right
Let's lift the haze
And scale the heights

Set my shoulders straight
Took a deep breath
This meeting I anticipate
Unlike impending death
Strode on to the platform
And there you stood
At worst, between us, it's good

When the world falls apart, one look at his love and the world falls away because “there you stood.” “At worst, between us, it’s good.”

Dang. That is just so so so well said.

Showing his New Orleans roots, the tracks “Here Comes the Big Parade” and “Trouble” both reflect what it means to be from a place in ways that are deeper than cognitive affirmation. The groove is in his soul. Oh, and the drum solo on “Big Parade” is stunning. I spent more hours than I care to remember learning it when I was in high school. The same thing is true of the drum break on “Joe Slam and the Spaceship” (that splash grab, oooooooo, so tasty).

Here is the whole album so that you can listen to it from start to finish!

Staying with the notion of place, “To Love the Language” is also something of a statement about being anchored in a home that stays with you no matter where you go. “To love the language, you’ve got to be born on the banks of the Mississippi.” I was not born on those banks and yet I could say the same thing about being from the mountains of East Tennessee. The accent there just hits different for me and smells like grandma’s biscuits.

This album is a divergence from his other stuff, but for my money, it is entirely consistent with who Connick is. He doesn’t try to be anything other than the guy that is from where he is from and who loves music the way that he loves music. Innovation when done best is about being anchored in what doesn’t change.

Other standout tracks are “Honestly Now,” “That Party,” and “Booker.” But, yeah, again, this whole thing is just perfect. By the way, don’t sleep on “Honestly Now” - this thing is trippy lyrically and yet a straight rocker with deceptively easy four on the floor drums, but then again, that groove never waivers. Oh, just one more thing about this track, I absolutely love that his account of solidarity is referring to “everyone” as “who’d ever come up short or won a race.” That’s just so cool. We all fall into those categories. And no matter what the results of the race are, we are absolutely able to identify with both realities. Success is not the goal, faithfulness is - can we keep running. Notice also that “safety’s just danger out of place” might be a cool tag line for the idea of faith as risk with direction. Yessssssss!

Honestly now
Either you stand for something
Or you get knocked down for nothing
Sister don't ache too soon
I thought it was understood
By everyone in this room
Who'd ever come up short or won a race
Safety's just danger out of place

I rediscovered this album again recently when I was telling my son about some of the drum parts and I haven’t been able to stop listening to it.

Wherever you are today, give this thing a play and be transported to the backrooms of a club in New Orleans where everyone there knows everyone else and the musical licks are not learned by formal training, but by having one’s soul defined by a place, by a feel, by a groove.

And who doesn’t have their own version of his description of true joy, hospitality, and family:

Stayin’ by my mama’s in slippers and pajamas
Where there’s always somethin’ good to eat
Bettin’ strawberries, honey and cherries
And pecan-pies, oh, so sweet
If you won’t work for a livin’
And live life leisurely
Pull up a screen pouch
Flop out in a rockin’ chair
To love the language
You got to be born
On the banks of the Mississippi, alright

I wish so so so much that more of my life were lived such that “She” was my existential soundtrack. This is what belonging means. The groove transcends the style. If you are not bopping your head to this album, and just squinching your nose up into a stink-face at the crazy good musicianship from start to finish, then you have no soul.

Go get some pecan pie and rethink your priorities!

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