Forty years ago Suzanne Nadine Vega made her debut with her self-titled prodigy on a 33 rpm record, which paved the way for a brilliant career, built on timid ballads carried solely by guitar and voice. Gems chiselled with minimal embellishment such as "Marlene On The Wall", "Small Blue Thing" and "The Queen And The Soldier" redrew a new female singer-songwriter aesthetic: refined, intimate and irresistibly contagious. It was a sharp, personal reworking of the confessional Greenwich Village folksinger figure right in the middle of the 1980s, when being one was anything but fashionable.
Four decades on - and nine years after her previous record, "Lover, Beloved: Songs From An Evening With Carson McCullers" (2016) - Suzanne Vega returns with her shimmering guitar and gentle voice, telling us slices of lived life and stories of an everyday existence suspended between reality and imagination. The ten tracks of "Flying With Angels" - produced by Gerry Leonard, longtime collaborator and guitarist who has also worked alongside David Bowie - move between urban chaos, political tensions and dreamlike visions, exploring themes such as the struggle for survival, freedom of expression and the search for spirituality.
The opener is a fine folk-rock blow that, amid jangling guitars and sharp lyrics, draws on the metaphor of "Speakers' Corner" - the spot reserved for impromptu orators - to warn of the dangers of disinformation and restrictions on free speech, more relevant than ever in the age of social media and in Donald Trump's America: "I guess we better use it now/ Before we find it gone". A sense of political urgency and a rocking verve return in "Witch", the story of a modern-day curse, a symbol of the gratuitous injustices afflicting society, driven by hypnotic guitars that keep the tension high after the enchanted intro (“What witch hit this switch/ Striking him down not only once but twice?/ Life divides into two sides/ Before and after with a terrible price”). "Rats" even reveals an unexpected punk vocation, with distorted guitars and a garage-rock organ backing a fierce critique of the law of the strongest: a commendable attempt, even if it's not quite Suzanne's natural territory.
The tragic state of the world today resurfaces in the mournful "Last Train From Mariupol", which delicately tackles the subject of the war in Ukraine, between a bandura-style guitar and ethereal voices, including that of Vega's daughter, Ruby Froom.
Of course there's no shortage of her typical acoustic soliloquies carried by guitar alone, such as the title track, which amid hushed arpeggios whispers hopes for some saving intervention in difficult times, the delicate tale of a love that never was in the ballad "Galway", with echoes of Irish folk tradition thanks also to Leonard's co-writing, and the more driving "Chambermaid", a semi-cover that reworks Bob Dylan's eternal "I Want You" from a feminist angle, giving voice to the chambermaid mentioned in the original song. Also squarely within her comfort zone is the elegant "Alley", built on an interplay of minor-key guitars sustained by an insistent drum rhythm, leaving the stage to a more restrained, intimate Suzanne.
Enriching Vega's classic sonic palette, meanwhile, are the blue-eyed soul inflections of the delightful "Love Thief", with an enveloping bassline and 1970s-style R&B backing vocals that complement Suzanne's calm voice, countered by Catherine Russell's sinuous one, making it one of the record's high points. Less convincing is the heartfelt tribute to Lucinda Williams ("Lucinda"), which blends acoustic sketches, spoken word and electronic loops to celebrate one of the icons of American female singer-songwriting (“a Dusty Springfield of the south/ Leathery pants and a pale pink mouth… Strong and proud/ A little bit frail”).
"Flying With Angels" won't be the album that relaunches Suzanne Vega's - already more than satisfying - career, but in just 38 minutes (far from a negative thing) it offers us a pleasant new dose of her graceful, witty songwriting, reminding us that in an age of aspiring girls with guitars, there's still someone who can teach them all a thing or two about the craft. With unchanged class and not even a hint of arrogance.
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02/05/2025
This article is an English translation of the original Italian text by Claudio Fabretti, published on OndaRock.it. It was translated with the help of artificial intelligence, under the editorial responsibility of OndaRock's editor-in-chief, Claudio Fabretti.