20 Signs of Life From 2003

I’ve always thought of Joe Henry as Tom Waits in cashmere. Minus the gruff, sandpapery voice, Henry, like Waits, bends past the flavescent pages of someone’s old journal and translates them into full-bodied songs. On Henry’s latest and eighth album, Tiny Voices, the autobiographical theme addresses contrasting stories of love. In the opening track, “This Afternoon,” the protagonist is the child of a cleaning lady who is frequently left poolside at the hotel and is, one day, seduced by an Australian businessman. The snapshots of seemingly insignificant objects like “an upset tray” or “an orange cup” are realistically recounted during this melodious post-traumatic flashback. The sound of fingers collapsing onto piano keys, symbolic of acquiescence, serves as a companion to the insightful lyrics. “This Afternoon” provides the perfect entryway into this voyeuristic and allegorical album. It’s as if each song opens the door into another hotel room where love is celebrated or, more often, in question. Whether it’s the sultry “Animal Skin,” the honeymoon-themed “Lighthouse” or the tear-inducing “Widows of the Revolution,” the most intimate of moments are captured both lyrically and musically. On this album, the percussion, piano, keyboards, guitars and horns act like biochemical secretions washing over the brain, dictating whether the words are met with joy, sadness, confusion or a complex blend of all three. It’s widely known that in Alaska there are hundreds of words used to describe snow. For Joe Henry and his band, there are hundreds of scenarios that can add or strip layers from the foundation of our most primal understanding of love.