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Dreams come true
Rediscovering the lost legacy of Judee Sill
BY ELIOT WILDER
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Nothing adds more to the myth and the mystery of an artist than dying young. Nick Drake comes to mind, his legacy, thanks in large part to a VW commercial, looming larger in death than it did in life. If Paul McCartney had kicked the bucket before he became a boring old fart, imagine how differently we might regard his body of work. The world is full of "lost" artists whose work remains ripe for rediscovery, and you can add to the list of the underappreciated Judee Sill. She was the first artist signed to David Geffen’s Asylum label, which became known as the vanguard of the early-’70s West Coast singer-songwriter movement that included Jackson Browne, Joni Mitchell, Warren Zevon, and, tangentially, the Eagles. Unlike that bunch, though, Sill did not make a large impression on the public, and though her two albums — 1971’s Judee Sill and 1973’s Heart Food — are treasured by the few who heard them, they’ve remained largely unknown. She lived a troubled, complicated life. Her father died when she was young, and she eventually fled her mother and an allegedly abusive stepfather for an LSD-droppin’, gun-totin’, gas-station-robbin’ life on road. In the late ’60s, she was jailed for heroin possession. She emerged from this dark period as a credible writer of songs about God versus human nature. Produced by Graham Nash, "Jesus Was a Cross Maker," from Judee Sill, was buoyed by a bit of country twang, her gospel-inflected singing, and distinctive baroque orchestrations. Heart Food’s "The Kiss," with its soaring strings and massed vocals, draws equally on Bach and the Beach Boys. Young fan Andy Partridge would borrow many of Sill’s deliciously ornate concepts for XTC. "The mood and the sound on our later records comes from Judee Sill, the layered vocals and beautiful arrangements," he recently told Uncut magazine. In 2003, Rhino Handmade came out with limited editions of Judee Sill and Heart Food, and since then there’s been a mini Judee revival, which is why Water has issued the two-CD Dreams Come True, which comprises demos that she was working on at Mike Nesmith’s studio for an intended third album in 1974, a video of a 1973 concert at USC, and some bobs and bits from early in her career. Also included is a beautifully prepared 68-page booklet of Sill’s lyrics and the recollections of those who were there. Restored by Wilco’s Jim O’Rourke, whose sonic enhancements appear subtle, the latter-day recordings make up the core of this release. Although the lively and loose production is a tad unpolished and the drums at times over-busy, nothing can mar these songs, which sneak past the watchful dragons of self-consciousness, as C.S. Lewis would put it. Sill’s concerns remain spiritual, but it’s more about asking crooked questions than delivering straight answers. However breezy they might sound, "I’m Over," "Apocalypse Express," "The Living End," and "The Good Ship Omega, Alpha Bound" are loaded with heavy (but never heavy-handed) religious imagery. On "That’s the Spirit," she sings, "I’ll die pointing in the direction of my own resurrection." But then there’s the Laura Nyro–esque "Things Are Looking Up," an irony-free expression of spiritual joy. The title track has just piano and Sill’s translucent voice. "While milk through the firmament streams," she coos, "Over all we do/Till dreams come true." Her final years, alas, were more of a nightmare; in 1979, after years of struggling with her drug-addled demons, she deliberately OD’d. She was just 35.
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