Compilations of this nature can be strange affairs. People can be drawn in on no more than strength of feeling toward its subject or a wish to empathise, sympathise or support. By this same token, people can be equally averse; the subject could be too close to home and heart or even too distant to provoke a response.
For me, while it certainly helps if the money goes to a good home (although, curiously, this isn’t a consideration when I fork out for any one of the however many records I own that probably just goes towards another leather throne in someone’s boardroom), it’s generally just about how good the end result sounds. And this one sounds just fine.
Mike Gomoll set the wheels in motion for this start of a collection of records soon after the death of his son Joey, who succumbed to a rare form of epilepsy at a tragically early age. This CD is to pay tribute to Joey’s life and to raise money for the foundation that carries Joey’s name.
This goes about its business in a very positive way. First of all, it’s not sentimental public mourning, it’s a celebration of the things that brought light into a too-short life, and a celebration of music itself. It’s in no way a hastily knocked-up compilation either – it’s all done thanks to artists giving their time and work directly to something they wanted to do; almost everyone here appears courtesy of themselves rather than labels, and of the 16 songs, 13 of them are new compositions or unique versions. There’s been a fair amount of work here from all parties, and it’s wonderfully evident throughout the collection.
It opens with Mike Viola performing Hang on Mike, presumably song to the self but could equally apply to the album’s curator – a good song to hang on to in bad times “Hang on Mike, if there’s one thing you’re good for it’s hanging on…”, followed by close family friends Del Amitri with a positive-sounding If Your Tears Don’t Make a Sound. The oceanside lilt of Ed Harcourt’s The Sweetest Sound of All is a gentle highlight of the record, performed with his usual joyful confidence, and even Crash Test Dummies’ MMMM MMMM MMMM MMMM (I think I spelled that right), quite possibly one of the most strangely depressing songs of the past two decades is lifted in this live version where Brad Roberts changes the words halfway through to describe the use of the song as a French cheese commercial.
There’s also an edition for kids as well which I have here but not had chance to have a proper listen as yet – the names involved aren’t quite as household to my eyes as on the grown-ups version (that also0 sports Neko Case, Cowboy Junkies, Tracy Bonham and Thea Gilmore amongst others), although Matthew Ryan does pop up to give a rather heartwarming rendition of You Are My Sunshine, a song close to this particular muppet-weaned heart from my childhood.
There are more volumes planned, hopefully this will be enough of a success to get more people on board and involved. It can be a strange listen at times as it’s hard to ignore this as part of someone’s grieving process, but it’s never uncomfortably so and it’s moving for all the right reasons without being sentimental or making the listener feel mawkish.
For details of the Joseph Gomoll Foundation, please visit www.joeyssong.org
For an interview with Mike Gomoll explaining more about this album and the story behind it, please go here for an article from the Huffington Post.
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