Over the past eleven years Quinn has logged 35,000 nautical miles cruising the Caribbean and the eastern seaboard on her thirty-six foot sailboat. Miss Inclined is Quinn's fifth CD; it's clear that she's out for the long haul both as a cruiser and a songwriter. For confirmed Quinn fans, her newest offering explores known territory: songs about sailing and living aboard boats that blend humor and poignancy. She makes light of the small stuff that frustrates all boaters, such as docking in tight places, and then draws our attention to bigger issues of personal relationships and independence. But there's a slight edge to this CD largely not found in her earlier albums. She challenges listeners who are living their lives by default. Quinn draws on her cruising lifestyle, both literally and metaphorically, to encourage us to escape from convention and conformity. The message is at it's most direct in 'Always A Choice': you've got yourself a mortgage a day job, a wife may not love it right now but you've got yourself a life but there is always a choice The bluesy title track, 'Miss Inclined', is a Mae West take on stepping outside of established mores in the quest for love and adventure: hear those whispers on the wind my good name maligned they used to call me Miss Upstanding now they call me Miss Inclined In 'Where Have All The Pirates Gone?', Quinn skewers the Caribbean cowboy whose dreams of a Buffett-like existence never extend beyond his perch on a bar stool: he'll bluff about the beaches the bikini babes, the boats and the endless sea of overproof on which this whole myth floats The theme of taking control of one's life appears again in the hard hitting 'Sailing On'. A terminally ill sailor chooses to cruise rather than submit to the false hope of a miracle cure. This song, though painful, is a fierce celebration of independence: well I rage against the darkness with each heartbeat since he's gone but I sure as hell won't tell you the choice he made was wrong For all the weighty material, this is a very funny album. Quinn is a clever lyricist and her songs are packed with wordplay and double-entendre. There's the wayward sailor 'searching for true luff' and the unfaithful snorkeler announcing, 'honey, look, I got a case of crabs'. And Quinn knows only too well from personal experience that knocking out the pump-out station while attempting to dock will 'raise a royal stink'. In terms of musical genre, there's a contemporary sound to the album that's difficult to pigeonhole. Quinn likes to call her work 'bluewater music' and while there's a definite blues tilt to many of the tunes, folk and country rock influences are also apparent. The final song, 'Dancing With The Moon', is probably best described as gypsy music. It closes the album with a hedonistic call: farewell toil, hello pleasure tonight escape the careful measure that keeps us all so neatly pinned throw caution to the wind Good citizens be forewarned. Quinn is downright subversive.
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