Send "Eilen Jewell " Ringtones to your Cell 
| Popmatters |
 According to the title song, on the day Eilen Jewell was born, a gypsy told her mother that Jewell would be the “Queen of the Minor Key”. That’s a honky-tonk queen a la Kitty Wells or perhaps Shel Silverstein’s “Queen of the Silver Dollar” type of country bar room royalty. Jewell sings about her fate over a romping rockabilly beat that indicates this while she may be the “queen of melancholy”, this ain’t no sad song. Jewell’s having a ball ruling over the empire of “empty glasses and broken hearts”. It’s good to be queen.And while Jewell may piss and moan about love, life, and places called home, she knows that’s all part of living. Her music conveys the sneering edge of danger. She employs musical styles rooted in ‘50s America, but this isn’t some retro trip down nostalgia lane. It’s where the hillbilly south, urban ethnic working class, and Southwestern badass meet, expressed in the visual styles of car culture, beehives, and cholo. It’s a journey to the era of when mental asylums used to do electro-shock and lobotomies as a matter of course to those who did not conform. Being a rebel means taking real risks. Jewell sets the mood before she even sings a note. The instrumental “Radio City” opens the disc with a blistering vibe full of hot rods and small deserted towns. It’s as far away from Rockefeller Center as you can get. The glare of the sun and the empty landscape make Nowheresville, U.S.A. the center of action. Hop in, bub, it’s gonna be a long ride....full text |
| Israbox |
| On "Queen of the Minor Key," blues and rockabilly-based singer/songwriter Eilen Jewel sings of the day she was born, when a gypsy predicted she would one day be "queen of the lonely tunes." Jewell, who "has a knack for capturing life's less rosy elements" (No Depression), proves worthy of the crown with her undeniably soulful voice, surf-tinged country band, and witty, bruising lyrics that would fit snugly on 'Blonde on Blonde....full text |
| Muddywatermagazine |
| Eilen Jewell’s “Queen of the Minor Key” conjures up a timeless netherland of pathos and woe, a haunted landscape where the past and present conflate and obfuscate whatever reality is. Or was. Jewell takes her own emotional present and puts it into these songs, all of which she wrote, creating musical settings from a past she was too young to know when they were new, but clearly loves. From the opening 60’s tremolo surf guitar and yakety-sax of the instrumental "Radio City," we’re back in time before the Beatles, when life was simpler, but it’s such a spooky sound, you know this isn’t about any kind of nostalgia, it’s about Jewell submerging herself into a landscape that captures her imagination, a place where she can conjure up whatever moods she wants. In the lyrics of the next song, “I Remember You,” her purpose starts becoming clearer. I remember you, you were locked in a padded room, I tried to teach you solitaire, you hollered at the moon… Unlike the two other well known songs called “I Remember You,” Frank Ifield’s and Bob Dylan’s, which were both sentimental remembrances, Jewell isn’t remembering fondly, she’s looking at a troubled past relationship that was strange, dangerous, but vivid and memorable, and recasting it in stark symbolism and surreal imagery. Her lyrics are direct and perfectly composed, as can be seen by the internal rhyming vowel sounds of solitaire/hollered at, and the wonderful following couplet that creates a carnival like image of a carney sharpshooter, or maybe a hint at the lure of danger, the possible tragic consequences, as in William Burrough’s trick shooting episode that killed his wife. I remember you, I taught you how to kiss, I let you shoot my hats off, ‘cause I knew you wouldn’t miss… In the title song, she puts herself in an authentic sounding, old time rockabilly setting, singing the record’s constant theme, in the chorus... I’m the queen of the lonely tunes, queen of the high shelf booze, the queen of the melancholy, the queen of the minor key. Trying to pull off this kind of old timey effect might not work and could come off sounding like a cheap novelty if it weren’t for Jewell’s excellent, simpatico band – husband Jason Beek on drums, Jerry Miller on guitars and John Sciascia on upright bass. They play this stuff like Jewell drove into a circa 50’s honky-tonk in Lubbock, saw them and said “Jump in the back of the truck boys… we got playin’ to do.” What Tom Waits talks about in his song, “That Feel,” this band’s got it. As far as Jewell’s sweet and bitter country tinged vocals, they’re always polished to a sheen and perfectly controlled, and that’s never a bad thing. She just doesn’t care to show off, she doesn’t have to – there’s an elastic quality to her voice that can caress words – she conveys more in a heartfelt phrase than ten histrionic high note country wailers could ever hope to do....full text |
Eilen Jewell lyrics
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