Rock 'n Roll Rebel? Kathy Zimmer's dreamin'
By Jonathan Berger

Kathy Zimmer isn't like other girls. Born and raised in rural Nebraska, she's been singing folk music from birth. The family sang around the house, harmonizing at the top of their lungs, straight out of some Norman Rockwell painting. She would play traditional, gospel and even old-time songs at local Mason City events like parades, county fairs and rodeos. So she's an authentic small town folk singer, right? Sure, but don't forget she's not like other girls. As soon as she opens her mouth, it's clear that something unusual is coming out. Her alto voice is the gimmick. It's what the critics notice and it's what fills the seats, even if nobody can properly describe what she's doing.

No two reviews of Kathy Zimmer portray her the same way. She's been called country, folks, urban folk, AntiFolk, classical, jazz and, even once, funky. They're all a little true, but none of them do Zimmer justice. She's creating a new genre of her own. Perhaps it should be called Zimic, or Kath Artistic Folk.

Zimmer likes not being easily identified, even if it sabotages her chances at success. One web review claimed she had no commercial appeal. "I freakin' love that," she says. "I am so glad not to be associated with commercial music, like Ashlee Simpson or any of the boy bands. If that's commercial, I want to be 180 degree away from it. I think the coolest times in music are when something gets big that no businessman ever thought would be successful."

Zimmer has a masters from the Cleveland Institute of Music. She's a professional, even if that's not how she makes her dough. "I still do whatever classical gigs come my way. And I will always work on my voice… but I don't know if I want to make my living at it. I just want to do my own thing, you know?"

Her education gave her a breadth of influences far removed from most acoustic songwriters. Her fascination with the classical art song leaves her producing subtle, beautiful work that does nothing but grow on you. Of course, the implication of material that grows on you is that it's not that catchy the first time around. Listening to Zimmer's recent dreamin', it's a little hard to find the hit. Two seem like possibilities, out of the mere four songs on the disc.

"I think four songs is enough to get someone's attention," says Zimmer. "For a first impression, for new listeners, I think this is a good way to do it. I tried to pick songs that I like but that work well together." There are themes running through the EP even as styles and descriptors swirl about.

The album begins with "Gospel Book," which, though told in the third person, is very likely Kathy Zimmer's origin story. "I'm gonna grow up to be a star, she said, gotta see what's going on out there," she sings. "The breeze whispered like a megaphone." It's about the character's flight from a world of fear and, if the chorus is any evidence, religion. The music is driving, but the real strength is Zimmer's voice, how it is used and what it conveys. She lets her voice serve the song. When she explains, "the looks in their eyes made her bleed from the inside, she was never very brave or very bold," the last few words are sung so low, so slowly, it truly helps us understand the character's vulnerability.

"[That's] something that you're taught during classical training as a singer," says Zimmer. "You're given a song and you're supposed to interpret it. You're taught how to interpret with classical technique. Now I have written my own songs, so it's a different way of interpreting. I want to relate my song to whoever's listening. So however I can do that, I do. I like to think of my voice as an instrument. Think of the way an instrument is used in music. Why can't a voice do the same?"

The second song, "Winter," conveys issues of vulnerability more directly. "Wrap your scarf around tighter as the wind tries to pull it off. Build around your heart a suit of armor when you decide you've been hurt enough." She sings of calluses as necessary to her singing and her playing, and, as such, for life. The picture Zimmer paints in dreamin' is one of a musician who needs to play to survive. The backup musicians-Yayo on drums and Yunior Terry on bass-help paint a beautiful picture; but, as always, the most important instrument is Zimmer's voice.

Sometimes her voice does not match well with her material. There was a scene in Fame 20 years ago when some guest-starring opera chick let loose in a pop girl group ensemble. It didn't work. She sounded like a real diva trying to sound like a pop diva, and the difference in style called attention to itself. The same thing happens in the otherwise excellent alternative universe hit, "Holy Terror," which shrugs off the sensitivity and ambivalence of the first two songs, and tells of an assured rock chick living life on her terms, laughing at all those around her. "I wore my fishnets, they called me a fisher of men. When I left that town I shook the dust from my boots and walked away as they counted from ten."

The lyrics are sophisticated, the singing assured, the imagery great . The catch is that Zimmer's voice sounds weird in this conventional arena. In the chorus, "I was a rock and roll rebel, I was a holy terror. Send up a war cry at a decibel too high. Cut the apron strings and kiss your-kiss your mother-oh oh-good-bye," the words "Holy terror always sound like they should be "Holy cherub," as that kind of language should be coming out of that voice. And at the end of the chorus she's trying to sound soulful, or maybe it's that previously suggested funkiness. Either way, it seems like it's the wrong phrasing, or the wrong voice, or something. The pauses seem strange, and "kiss your mother goodbye" is an incredibly evocative line, but its sensuality gets lost.

This song requires a more traditional rock voice. Though Zimmer is masterful in song interpretation, it feels like "Holy Terror" requires further interpretation to truly hit the mark. This sweet alto sounds little like a rock 'n roll rebel. If only she could do it harder, or edgier.

The final song, "St. Patrick," returns to themes of loss and isolation, and continues the self-reflective nature of this release. It's another song about music, for she requests in the chorus, "Sing me to sleep with my eyelids pure as pearls. Sing to me, my guitar."

In the world of Zimmer's songs there appear great obstacles and great loneliness. "I'll scrape my chalk on the sidewalk for awhile 'til it screeches like fingernails on a board. Pray for some praise 'til the rain washes the color away… wake up hugging the floor." But hope is still available. Salvation exists through music.

Religious references permeate dreamin', but it seems that the idol to which Zimmer worships is music. It's a good thing, she's damned good at it, and doing something wholly unique that can best be compared to other unidentifiable quantities. When pressed on who she sounds like, Zimmer suggests, "Joni Mitchell, Joan Baez, Kate Bush, Rilo Kiley… whatever. I sound like me."

But what is it? Face it: Zimic and Kath Artistic Folk are pretty stupid names. At her website, Kathy Zimmer calls her style "cosmopolitan folk, romantic urban music created through old world ways." In a world that looks at all music through a pop culture lens, is there a place for this? Let us hope.