The history of popular music is filled with stories of triumph and tragedy. Among the latter, no story is more tragic than that of Judee Sill. After a difficult childhood which found her turning to drugs and crime, Sill found solace in songwriting. Her light folk-rock style became known as the “Laurel Canyon” sound. She became the first artist ever signed to the brand new Asylum Records in the early ’70s, and toured as an opening act for David Crosby and Graham Nash.
Sill’s self-titled first album was released in 1971, and less than two years later, in the spring of 1973, she followed it with the album Heart Food. Both were critically acclaimed. Neither met with any commercial success. Following the failure of her second album to find an audience, Judee Sill disappeared from the music scene.
Sill has remained largely forgotten, a footnote in the history of southern California music, but there have been those who have tried to keep her name alive for many years. Among them is noted producer Jim O’Rourke, who mixed a collection of Sill’s unreleased songs. Warren Zevon recorded a cover of Sill’s most well known song, “Jesus Was a Crossmaker,” for his 1995 album Mutineer, and current Seattle sensations Fleet Foxes play Sill’s “Crayon Angels” in their live set. Her two Asylum albums were released as a double-CD set with bonus material in 2005, leading to a reassessment of her career.
This week, the indie label American Dust has released Crayon Angel: A Tribute to the Music of Judee Sill. The 15-track album includes covers of some of Sill’s most enduring songs by roster of some of the leading lights, and lesser knowns, of independent music. As is almost always the case with tribute albums, Crayon Angel is a hit-or-miss affair, succeeding when the artists allow the strength of Sill’s songs to emerge, and failing utterly when the artists try to make it all about themselves. These songs don’t need reinterpretation. Mostly they just need to be heard by an audience who are unfamiliar with Sill. (more…)


A few weeks ago I had the opportunity to see David Byrne live in concert. It was purported to be a celebration of the work he did with Brian Eno, famed producer and musical renegade, encompassing Eno’s production on classic Talking Heads albums as well as their collaborations like My Life In The Bush of Ghosts and a new, currently digital-only release 

Actually, this column is titled “De-evolution, or Long Distance Pissing on the Moon,” but I didn’t think that would be the most genteel headline, so I waffled.
Nameless A&R Guy gets the mail – still in backward undies and inside-out robe – and sees a small brown envelope with no postage on it. He brings the mail to the kitchen table, opens the envelope, and pulls out a blank cassette that says, in block letters, “Warren Zevon Dance Mix.”