San Francisco Days (1993)

Chris Isaak is a Roy Orbison pastiche so good that, with his pouty James Dean good looks, he was a natural for David Lynch and the Twin Peaks franchise. He appeared in Fire Walk With Me as an FBI agent on approximately the same psychic wavelength as Special Agent Dale Cooper. Isaak’s biggest commercial splash occurred with his previous album, from 1989, Heart Shaped World, home of the #6 “Wicked Game,” his only hit (which makes him technically you-know-what). He has carried on since, with a half-rack or more of albums over the years. In many ways San Francisco Days represents the beginning of the back side of his career, featuring, for the last time, Isaak’s secret weapon of lead guitarist Jesse Calvin Wilsey, the so-called “King of Slow.” Wilsey helps make the best song here, “Can’t Do a Thing,” with his sultry play. But the song is also a good example of Isaak’s songwriting skill, which is not negligible. He’s got an Orbison / Lynch theme about dreams and dreaming running through much of his material, but in “Can’t Do a Thing” it takes a notable turn. The singer rues a relationship he is still not over, taunting her passive-aggressively, in his mind, with the things he can imagine. And she can’t do a thing to stop him. Example: “Makin’ love with somebody / Exactly like you.” The sad, irresistible “Except the New Girl” follows, continuing the best part of the album, with a tender loser sensibility and Wilsey’s piercing play on the lower strings. “Beautiful Homes” positively glides. “Waiting” may or may not be a response to “I’m Not Waiting” on Heart Shaped World. Yes, much of San Francisco Days, even the best, is not far from the usual Orbison place, taking a somewhat rancid turn occasionally. But I have to forgive because Isaak and Wilsey make love-sickness work so well and so effectively. “I Want Your Love,” a total smoothie, plays more in the rockabilly mode, a reedy organ taking command. Orbison played rockabilly too, of course, but in the end the better model for Isaak might be Neil Diamond, which he seems to signal in a way by closing the album on a perfectly conceived cover of “Solitary Man.” Diamond was a great songwriter too, and even moody bruised singer in his own right, but the way Isaak records and sequences his cover here feels significant, even if it’s not much in the running for best tune on the album. Then here comes the rest of Isaak’s career.