WINDY CITY TIMES Copyright © 2002 Lambda Publications Inc. All rights reserved. Oct. 16, 2002
	Bent Nights Ripley Caine
All publications Front Page Nightspots Blacklines En La Vida Out! Resource Guide Current WCT Issue	by VERN HESTER   Ripley Caine. Photo by Hester Ripley Caine, she of the raven locks and steely quaver, has just dropped this season's bomb. Lover, Caine's new CD, though it doesn't fulfill all of the potential of her live performances, comes pretty fucking close. Two months ago she dropped a single on me, "Bent over Forward," and she's had me ever since. But to be fair, a chunk of Lover's appeal has to do with alchemy, the combination of magic and science. Or in today's language: chemistry. Where Caine sounded hushed and quietly tumultuous before, with the help of bass man Tony Stompanato and new addition Chuck Harling on skins she's downright punchy. Harling and Stompanato are of course Ellen Rosner's rhythm section, but where E.R. has the punch of an urban blues woman, Caine treads in Joni Mitchell territory. Thoughtful, slightly cool, even atonal, Caine can be as careful as Roberta Flack and as delicate as Judy Collins. With Harling, Stompanato and Caine have permission to let loose and quash that flower-nibbling charm. The man's a basher; seeing the Rosner or Caine bands live isn't complete without seeing his hair and black gloves move in a blur in the drum kit. But the punchline is his effect on his leading ladies. Rosner is such a visceral talent that her band HAS to match her fury. Caine is something else altogether. Quiet and telling, her music can lay down as a thing of beauty. But on Lover she's moved into a new mode. Where she sounded positively bound and gagged by her subtlety, that familiar quaver sounds dramatic, liberated, and downright fierce. The result is one of the best albums of the year, yeah, right up there with E.R.'s Count to Three. Lover's appeal is in its muted fury. Roiling guitars, dramatic peaks, and a chugging velocity that runs from beginning to end. As a result, Caine's vocals blossom like a peacock's tail feathers. Her voice still has that ironic twist in tone, but the new landscape gives it an entirely new palate of hues. From the start, Lover gives Caine a lot to sink her teeth into. The opener, "Hey Mister," sounds like this autumn's most appropriate single; you can almost see the caboose of summer shrinking in the distance. Deeper still is the lyric's depiction of an unhappy situation ("... this ain't no petty shit...") that betrays the song's relaxed sheen. "Bent Over Forward" is Lover's centerpiece, though. Simultaneously quiet and operatic, it melds the (old) quiet Ripley with the (new) bolder Ripley. "So, this is the end...," Caine plaintively wails, but the rolling bass lines push the song right out of either regret or pity. Coolly she says, "Bent over forward / took it like a man...," and there's a tinge of exasperation and pique. It may be me, but she sounds a wee bit pissed off at the love game. Roberta Flack my ass. Ripley Caine's CD release party for Lover is Oct. 20, at the Subterranean, 2011 W. North Ave., (773) 278-6600.   Heads up; According to last week's Reader (section one, Calender page), the legendary Cynthia Plaster Caster has established a foundation to help struggling musicians and artists. And the foundation's way of raising funds? To sell reproductions of Caster's greatest hits (according to the Reader the foundation made its first $1500 sale on a limited edition reproduction of Jimi Hendrix' jones). Apart from reproductions of famous rock and roll penises, you can get T-shirts ($20), aprons ($30), and other less spicy artwork. For more information visit the Web site (www.cynthiapcaster.org), call (312) 640-1999, or write to the Cynthia P. Caster Foundation c/o JNL, 216 W. Chicago, Chicago, Ill., 60610. Message to Mr. Harling; Congratulations on your upcoming wedding and of course "Chuck Fest," down in New Orleans.
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