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Written by Laura Ann Checkett Wednesday, 25 January 2006 11:39

Each artist forms a distinctly personal collective of something old, something new, and something borrowed. Marshall has returned to her Southern roots, if only to realize it was with her all along—an influence now serving as a genuine compliment to a voice gracefully dancing across an interwoven floor of experience and empathy.

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Not to be confused with a greatest hits collection, Cat Power frontwoman Chan Marshall’s three-year hiatus since releasing You Are Free has full circled and arrived at what is now being hailed as her “greatest” album to date—and deservedly so, I might add. From the industry favorite Covers album to the gently introspective 1998 Moon Pix, Marshall is quietly proving that her whisper-like voice will overflow a vast collection of musical cups.

While 2003’s You Are Free boasted the contributions of Seattle-grunge debutantes Dave Grohl and Eddie Vedder, The Greatest conception found Marshall in her hometown of Memphis, pursuing the slinky Hi Records sound of ’70s soul, acquiring influential members of the esoteric yet influential era on the way. Artists include Al Green’s guitarist and songwriting comrade Mabon “Teenie” Hodges (Teenie cowrote “ Love and Happiness” and “Take Me to the River), Leroy “Flick” Hodges, and Steve Potts (Booker T. and the MG’s). Each artist forms a distinctly personal collective of something old, something new, and something borrowed. Marshall has returned to her Southern roots, if only to realize it was with her all along—an influence now serving as a genuine compliment to a voice gracefully dancing across an interwoven floor of experience and empathy. For Marshall and her listeners, there’s no place like home.

The Greatest possesses various inter-mixes of Southern style, conversing back and forth from folksy (“Empty Shell”) to bluesy (“Hate”) with tracks such as “In a Bar” teetering on the honky-tonk. The standout title track eloquently embraces facets of all the above, with a delivered subject that would bring any good ol’ boy to utter tears and self-reflection.

However eclectic and vast or winding the road gets, Marshall’s stability is formed in her dark and beautifully brooding voice. This voice as natural as if merely breathing, and as captivating as if a gasping for last breath. Marshall is not demanding our attention, but rather inviting it. But perhaps Marshall puts it best: “It’s tentative, amorphous folk and folk rock for people and a moment…” Yes, Chan Marshall, that moment is now yours.