Ben Hecht said of Cole Porter's songs, "They are more than tunes. They are little houses in which our hearts once lived. When we hear them we go visiting." Hopefully the same will one day be said of the Red House Painters' Mark Kozelek.
When I saw Kozelek a couple of years ago in Detroit, it was the second of two lengthy road trips I had made from Toronto to see the Red House Painters singer/songwriter perform solo. My favourite song during the latter of the two concerts was a work in progress tentatively titled "Duk Koo Kim". I was struck by the beauty of its matter-of-factness and the grandiose arrangement, even in its presentation as a solo piece. During a Red House Painters performance several months later (around the time of the long-awaited release of Old Ramon), "Duk Koo Kim" became an absorbing full-band property, but it no longer had the intimacy of the original. While I looked forward to its eventual release (diehard RHP fans are nothing if not patiently insistent), I never thought I'd be lucky enough to be talking about its recorded version as an acoustic ballad.
Seeing Kozelek perform live is one of the great joys of being a fan of his songwriting. Songs appear on stage years before they appear on album, taking on numerous forms as both the composition and its arrangement are meticulously explored and developed. However, I was relieved to discover "Duk Koo Kim" here in its original form, as an acoustic number. There are two versions: one recorded in-studio, the other recorded live in Indianapolis. Kozelek, a poster boy for the broken hearted and melancholy, gives what is perhaps the most harrowing vocal performance of his entire career, capturing perfectly the sense of loss and confusion that pervades the composition and washes over the listener. It's a tragic ballad that contemplates death and the departure of loved ones and questions the role angels play in lives lived moment to moment. We sit beside Kozelek as he watches tragedy unfold on a late night television screen, never quite sure how he feels about the event, but stung with the sense that he is discussing something universal rather than specific -- something far more significant for him and for us. "Duk Koo Kim" develops slowly, like much of Kozelek's work, but it is characterized by an intensity that transcends even his most impassioned performances.
While it's a shame Duk Koo Kim was released in a format that essentially limited its availability to all but the few diehard RHP fans who make a point of keeping informed of his stealthy side work (Kozelek also recently wrote and recorded the score to an independent American film that will almost certainly never see the light of day), this release from the Vinyl imprint points towards an interesting and encouraging trend that seems to assure the truly great artists -- regardless of their commercial viability -- will always be given the opportunity to release the truly great songs. "Duk Koo Kim" is, in my humble opinion, one of those songs.
