The first CD I ever bought (not the first item of music, that would take us back to LP's and 45's) was Rickie Lee Jones' The Magazine. I didn't have a CD player. I didn't even have the hope of having a CD player. When the compact disc hit it was an artificially expensive format requiring a serious investment in hardware. This was an aspirational purchase. It was a promise to myself that someday I would be the type of girl who'd listen to Rickie Lee Jones on expensive stereo equipment. (As it happened, I gained access to a CD player that very week. I never looked back.)
I can't make you love Rickie Lee Jones. I recognize that she is forever associated with slouched hats and doomed affairs in the hearts and minds of many. Having followed her entire career believe me when I say The Devil You Know is among her best work. This is a covers album. It's also a fairly predictable and shop worn selection - her answer (perhaps) to Rod Stewart's American Songbook. It's a different side of Rickie. There's a gravity to her voice which brings Billie Holliday to mind. She's weary. The girl has grown into herself. There's a moment in The Weight where she makes a sound, just a bit of an Ahh. Within that addition you can hear a resigned fatigue. The sort you quickly stifle before it drowns you. Give her a chance to win you over. For a moment, be the girl who listens to Rickie Lee Jones on outrageously expensive sound equipment.
(What I really want now is a duet between Rickie Lee Jones and Victoria Williams. File that in my dreams next to Joe Jackson recording with Perry Farrell.)