Patty Griffin’s dark ‘Dream’

Patty Griffin

Impossible Dream

ATO Records

Fans looking for the literary depth of 2002’s “1000 Kisses” or the rocking sensual edge of 1998’s “Flaming Red” are in for a surprise in Patty Griffin’s “Impossible Dream.” She has traded both for the gauzy, studio reverberations and obtuse imagery of a world moving hesitantly toward an uncertain future.

Although not as immediately captivating as her previous recordings, Miss Griffin’s new songs give us yet another glimpse into the thinking of one of pop’s deeper, more lyrical and expressive songwriters, one bent on reinventing herself with each successive foray into the studio. She has shown us the cafe singalong folk guitar slinger; she has shown us her torchy, bluesy side — complete with a ballad in Spanish — and she has blown us away with heart-pounding rock.

In “Impossible Dream,” Miss Griffin dwells almost completely in the mist of life’s dark side. Her voice leads us through the long, thick, swirling horn-section chords and floats above sustained, ringing piano and organ notes in songs that paint sad scenes.

After leading us through a world-beat-influenced opening track, purported to be inspired by author James Baldwin, Miss Griffin dives into a minor-key, folk-influenced lament titled “Cold as it Gets” in which she observes, “There’s a million sad stories on this side of the road/strange how we all just got used to the blood.”

“Top of the World,” with its melancholy melody and string arrangement, is typical. The protagonist shares his life’s simple regrets in a song that gets its dynamics strictly from Miss Griffin’s compelling vocal.

Yet the simple melody of “Rowing Song” can get locked into a listener’s mind as it drifts off at the end into the shifting chords of the horn section.

Elsewhere, she takes us South in back-to-back songs with ambiguous religious allusions. “Florida” is a coming-of-age tale with some of the record’s most memorable images:”Night wants to kiss you deep/be on his way/pretend he don’t know you/very next day.”

“Mother of God” rings, literally, with more sustained piano and organ chords. They hang suspended in the air, appropriately like incense or a prayer, but they threaten to overwhelm Miss Griffin’s soft introspective lyric.

In “Icicles,” the closing ballad, Miss Griffin offers a neat summary of the disc’s underlying, if not intentional, theme: “I must confess there appears to be way more darkness than light.”