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THE ART OF STAYING SAD; CHRIS ISAAK'S SINGULAR PATH Source: by James Kenney (April, 2025)
For more than four decades, Chris Isaak has carved out a singular career - doing one thing so hauntingly well, it’s become his signature. He's built a cathedral from heartbreak and despair, lit by the flickering neon of 3 am regrets. Since his 1985 debut SILVERSTONE, Isaak has remained loyal to a sound all his own: a smoky swirl of retro rockabilly, bruised torch songs, and Americana noir. Robert Christgau dubbed his songs 'rockaballads' and since 1985 Isaak has proven that this formula - drenched in reverb, steeped in dark-night-of-the-soul atmosphere - can yield a body of work as cohesive as it is emotionally intense. He may only ever sing about the one that got away - but he does it like he's watching her go, over and over, in slow motion, forever, with the devotion of a monk and the flourish of a matador, turning heartache into high art. Through consistent craftsmanship and an unabashed dedication to late-night heartbreak moods, Isaak's music has remained instantly recognizable: that sound of 3 am loneliness, crooned by a pretty damned eccentric handsome throwback in a glittery suit. SILVERSTONE TO FOREVER BLUE: A HAUNTING FORMULA ARRIVES FULLY FORMED
Isaak's first five albums
- SILVERSTONE (1985), CHRIS
ISAAK (1987), HEART
SHAPED WORLD (1989), SAN
FRANCISCO DAYS (1993),
and FOREVER
BLUE (1995)
- form a run of haunting brilliance, each circling the
same emotional terrain with hypnotic precision. In
this era, guided by producer Erik Jacobsen, Isaak honed, as
Christgau put it, the "dark, hurtful, sensitive side"
of rockabilly. His songs often sound like lost jukebox
classics direct from a 24-hour David Lynch diner: twangy
guitar echoes, gentle Latin-tinged rhythms, and Isaak's
voice crying out with timeless romantic despair. Lynch
must have noticed, too: he used Isaak's music to haunting
effect in BLUE
VELVET and WILD
AT HEART
and later cast him in TWIN
PEAKS: FIRE WALK WITH ME,
sealing their shared artistic wavelength.
Before teaming up with Isaak,
producer Erik Jacobsen was best known for crafting hits like
Norman Greenbaum's Spirit
in the Sky and
a string of chart-toppers with 'The Lovin' Spoonful',
including 'Do
You Believe in Magic' and 'Summer
in the City'. With Jacobsen's sympathetic production, Isaak developed a
signature sound early on and showed little interest in
chasing trends. By the late '80s, when synth-pop and
hair metal ruled, Isaak and his band Silvertone were
defiantly different: "their
modern rockabilly style was always out of step ... The
'80s were about dance music and big snare rock," notes Mix magazine,
yet Isaak pressed on, undeterred. The payoff only came
when Hollywood noticed the unique atmosphere of Isaak's
music. VOICE IN THE FOG: WHEN ISAAK ENTERED THE LYNCHIAN DREAM
Isaak's music has always had a cinematic
quality
- "broken and elegant, chiaroscuro,
melodramatic, and cinematographic," as one writer
described it
- so it's fitting that multiple filmmakers
embraced his songs to underscore scenes of dreamy longing
and eerie romance. Visionary director Lynch was an
early champion: he wove two SILVERSTONE tracks, 'Gone
Ridin'' and 'Livin' for Your Lover,' into the sinister
suburbs of BLUE VELEVET (1986). Lynch later made
Isaak's 'Wicked Game' the seductive leitmotif of WILD ATE
HEART (1990), singularly igniting Isaak's mainstream
breakthrough. The song's smoldering guitar line
- courtesy of James Calvin Wilsey
- and Isaak's aching,
lovelorn vocals create a mood hypnotic and haunted, where
tortured romance lingers like smoke. Isaak's persona,
part matinee idol, part loner with a shadowy past, fit hand
in glove with David Lynch's world of doomed romance and
creeping unease. There's always been something elusive beneath Isaak's cool surface, a kind of beautiful strangeness, and Lynch clearly saw it. He cast him as a soft-spoken FBI agent in TWIN PEAKS: FIRE WALK WITH ME (1992), where Isaak's quiet intensity and off-kilter presence felt right at home amid the deeper menace of Lynch's noir dreamscape.
Other
master directors stamped their seal of approval on Isaak's
singular style. Jonathan Demme cast Isaak in MARRIED
TO THE MOB (1988) (which included a nifty Isaak original,
'Suspicion of Love') and again in THE SILENCE OF THE LAMBS
(1991)
- and when Stanley
Kubrick needed something raw and electric to stoke the
sexual unease of Eyes Wide Shut (1999), he reached for
Isaak's 'Baby Did a Bad Bad Thing,' a feral blues-rock howl
that smolders with lust and guilt. Isaak recalled getting
the call just before stepping onto The Tonight Show stage,
stunned that Kubrick, the master of cinematic precision, had
tapped into his stormy, nocturnal world. By the end of the
'90s, Isaak's music had drifted through the frames of films
by Lynch, Kubrick, Demme, Tony Scott (TRUE ROMANCE), even
Clint Eastwood (A PERFECT
WORLD), cementing his place as a purveyor of after-hours
misery in American pop culture. His blend of straight-faced rockabilly swagger and aching torch song proved surprising versatile and enduring. It could, for Lynch, summon the slow buzz of a flickering motel sign outside a room where something unspeakable just happened, or, in Kubrick's hands, seep through the mirror-lit haze of a love scene where Tom Cruise clings to his wife Kidman's body, even as her mind drifts elsewhere. All while remaining unmistakably Isaak, wrapped in twilight and longing. CONFESSIONS MURMURED AT 3 AM IN A CHEAP MOTEL ROOM At the heart of Chris Isaak's enduring spell is that voice - all ache. It doesn't just carry a tune; it pulls it apart, lets the light shine through, then hands it back to you with a bruise. His vocals don't sit politely inside the song, they are the song, twisting and bending like a lead guitar solo that just remembered someone it lost. On 'Wicked Game,' James Calvert Wilsey's indelible guitar riff no doubt draws you in, but it's that voice - brooding, swooning, impossibly romantic and equally miserable - that's the Convincer.
There's near-operatic control at work, yes, but also the
quiet tension of someone trying not to wake the
neighbors while falling apart. At his best, Isaak
delivers heartbreak with effortless poise; the drama in
his voice is soft-lit and shadowed, like a confession
murmured through thin motel walls to someone who
understand in the next room, long after midnight.
THE ERIK JACOBSEN ERA: CONSISTENCY AND CRAFT Much of Isaak's best work can be traced to his long partnership with producer Jacobsen, who helmed Isaak's recordings from the start of his career through the late 1990s. Jacobsen was an ideal collaborator to cultivate Isaak's throwback sound. He understood the value of restraint and analog warmth, helping Isaak achieve that spacious, reverb-drenched production that became his hallmark. The first five albums (through FOREVER BLUE) all bear Jacobsen's imprint, and they form a remarkably unified body of work. If you drop the needle on any Isaak album from 1985 to 1995, you are greeted by the same basic elements: twangy, reverbed guitars (mostly courtesy of Wilsey) and Isaak's voice crooning or crying in front of a cavern of echo. During this era Isaak and Jacobsen rarely deviated from the template, and that was precisely the strength of their collaboration. The Chris Isaak sound became instantly identifiable, a kind of genre unto itself. Within that consistency, there were, of course, highlights and subtle evolution. SILVERSTONE announced Isaak's style with confidence (the rockabilly rave-up 'The Lonely Ones'' and the moody 'Funeral in the Rain' both feel like noir short stories). Chris Isaak's 1987 eponymous album marked a strong next step - richer in sound ('Fade Away' and 'This Love Will Last' are especially striking), darker in mood, and backed by a band that had grown tighter and more confident from time on the road. It all pointed to an artist settling more deeply into his voice and vision. HEART SHAPED WORLD (1989) was no mere continuation, it proved a masterpiece of mood and melancholy, so gorgeously broken it felt almost too intimate to fully embrace. The songs shimmered with sorrow, every note aching with longing and beauty, the kind of record that didn't just play in the background. Isaak had always trafficked in heartbreak and noir stylings, but here, he refined it into something especially spectral, aching, and oddly luxurious - music that sounded like it had been recorded in a world fueled only by bad memories.
The album leans heavily into
reverb and space. Wilsey's aching, delayed leads
feel like smoke curling into the rafters. The
arrangements are spare but lush, allowing Isaak's voice
to sit front and center, drenched in a kind of wounded
glamour
And then there's that song.
'Wicked Game,' tucked in unassumingly at track five,
might have gone unnoticed like so many slow-burning
Isaak classics before it. But fate (and David
Lynch) had other plans It's easy to forget now, with how
iconic it's become, just how strange the song sounded on
pop radio in 1990. It didn't chase trends.
It seemed to hover above them, casting its shadow. There's a patience to HEART SHAPED WORLD that feels almost radical. It unfolds like a slow dream, or a long drive down a highway with nothing ahead but white lines and moonlight. For a time, the album hovered in obscurity, admired quietly only by the faithful few. But when 'Wicked Game' broke through, Isaak's strange, aching genius became impossible to ignore. For a brief, luminous moment, the mainstream surrendered to the spell he'd been casting all along. Isaak handled the success by not fixing what wasn't broken: the next album, SAN FRANCISCO DAYS (1993), offered more late-night tales of love gone wrong, and its title track and beautiful, eccentric songs like '5:15' and 'Two Hearts' kept the formula alive. This creative run arguably peaked with FOREVER BLUE in 1995, an album that represents both a culmination and a turning point. FOREVER BLUE is Isaak's most unified statement - a concept album of sorts about heartbreak, written after a painful breakup. From the aching opener 'Baby Did a Bad Bad Thing' to the devastated closer 'The End of Everything,' every song is lubricated by hurt. The record was widely acclaimed (it earned Isaak a Grammy nomination and is often cited as his masterpiece, though I still think HEART SHAPED WORLD and maybe 1987's Chris Isaak edge it out), sold well, and spawned another near-hit in the beautifully self-pitying 'Somebody's Crying.' It also marked the first album Isaak made without guitarist Wilsey, whose languid, tremolo guitar lines had been central to Isaak's sound since the beginning. By 1993, however, Wilsey's personal troubles (involving heroin addiction) had led to a split. Isaak never publicly disparaged his bandmate, but according to those close to thesituation, "Jimmy was fired by Isaak ... he was so messed up on heroin he couldn't remember his parts," though Isaak left the door open for his return if he got clean. The parting was bittersweet as Wilsey's twang had helped make Isaak a star and define his sound, yet the show had to go on. Isaak hired a proficient new lead guitarist (Hershel Yatovitz) and continued performing, but the seedy noir aura that Wilsey's guitar provided on those first four albums would have to evolve and was most certainly missed. Before diving into the underrated SPEAK OF THE DEVIL, it's worth pausing on the odd and perhaps unfortunate detour that came just before it: 1996's BAJA SESSIONS. After the sustained vision of FOREVER BLUE, Isaak seemed to take a sharp left turn. Or perhaps just a nap. BAJA SESSIONS stripped away the cavernous reverb and bruised drama in favor of laid-back, mostly acoustic arrangements, inspired by Isaak's surfing trips to Baja California. The result was mellow, sun-dappled, and prettily dull. Isaak's artistry has always been a game of inches - nuance, mood, restraint – but this time, even more slowed-down remakes of his own songs like 'Dancin'' and 'Two Hearts,' along with straight-faced covers of Bing Crosby-era fare like 'South Of The Border' (originally popularized by Gene Autry) and 'Yellow Bird' (first recorded as 'Choucoune' in Haiti, but made famous in English by Arthur Lyman), while pleasant, simply don't take off, which might have been the point, but, still. It felt less like a creative reinvention and more like a stopgap. An album made not out of inspiration, but obligation. The album made more sense in hindsight, as BAJA SESSIONS was in fact the soundtrack to a strange and charmingly low-key television special Isaak directed himself - a mix of performances and self-effacing comedy sketches, shot in Baja. As a souvenir of that (excellent) film, it would have sat right with churlish fans like me. But because it wasn't aired in the US until several years later, in 1996 bewildered fans encountered the album in isolation, without any context that might have made it all click. Coming off a five-album run that defined his sound and cemented his persona, BAJA SESSIONS felt like Isaak's first real misstep - a creaky hammock swing through nostalgia (where he even rerecords songs of his own like 'Two Hearts' that were only three years old) that, however good-natured, left me wondering if Isaak had run out of heartbreak to mine. Jacobsen and Isaak reunited for one final studio album, SPEAK OF THE DEVIL (1998), and the record was a conscious recalibration - an attempt to modernize the sound just enough, to bring back some rock & roll energy after the breezy acoustic drift of BAJA SESSIONS, which hadn't exactly set critics or charts alight. In many ways, SPEAK OF THE DEVIL like a return to form: the noir romanticism was back, the reverb returned, but this time with a sleeker, more contemporary rock sheen. The sessions, however, were turbulent. Isaak and Jacobsen had a falling out during production, with Rob Cavallo (best known for his work with Green Day) and Isaak himself stepping in to finish the record. Jacobsen would later refer to it, perhaps sarcastically, as Isaak's Abbey Road. And yet, despite the behind-the-scenes drama, the album stands as one of Isaak's most cohesive and compelling. I really dig it. Tracks like 'Talkin 'bout A Home' and 'Wandering' bring a swampy, southern-fried heat to his usual heartache, while the title track's snarling swagger has made it an enduring concert staple. 'Don't Get So Down On Yourself' is simply beautiful. And with 'Black Flowers,' that strange, miserable Isaak from SILVERSTONE re-emerges, proof that the lonesome shadows never really left, they were just waiting to be stirred. TELEVISION STARDOM AND 21st CENTURY CROONING
By the dawn of the
21st century, Chris Isaak had begun to extend
beyond the recording studio and onto the
television screen. In 2001, he
launched THE CHRIS ISAAK SHOW, a fictionalized
sitcom on Showtime in which he played an
exaggerated version of his stage persona,
navigating the music industry and comedic
hijinks with his real-life bandmates as
co-stars. The show ran for three seasons
and showcased Isaak's natural comedic timing and
self-effacing humor, a terrific supporting
performance by Kristin Datillo as his manager,
and cool concert sequences with Isaak and his
band and guest performers like Cyndi Lauper,
Stevie Nicks or Brett Michaels.
Viewers discovered what concertgoers had long
known: behind the brooding balladeer persona,
Isaak is a born entertainer and a goofball,
never above a tongue-in-cheek joke at his own
expense.
While the slightly glossier production - polished guitars here, a programmed beat there - marked a shift in texture, ALWAYS GOT TONIGHT did little to change Isaak's status as a beloved cult figure; its sales weren't any more impressive than usual. But it closed out his original run at Reprise reasonably, a reminder that Isaak, even when slightly off-course, was still unmistakably himself.
In addition to his
Showtime sitcom, he hosted THE CHRIS ISAAK HOUR
in 2009 on the Biography Channel
- a relaxed, music-focused interview series where he
chatted and performed with legends like Nicks
and Glen Campbell. His growing TV
commitments continued to sap some of the
momentum from his recording career. In
2006, Isaak released his GREATEST HITS, a
perfectly serviceable collection that leans a
bit too heavily on radio-friendly falsetto
numbers at the expense of the moody, eccentric
curlicues that make his albums so memorable.
The compilation showcases his chart ambitions
- both realized and not
- but doesn't quite capture the full range of his
strange, shadowed charm. Still, it's not
without surprises: his out-of-left-field cover
of Cheap Trick's 'I Want You to Want Me' is a
high-energy gem.
Then came MR
LUCKY in 2009, a record that showed Isaak aging
fairly gracefully into his role as an elder
statesman of heartbreak. Among its
highlights are the gorgeous 'You Don't Cry Like
I Do' and 'The Best I Ever Had,' a buoyant, up
tempo track that, if I may brag for a moment, I
may have personally helped rescue from
obscurity. Originally released as a
non-album B-side to 'Let Me Down Easy' back in
2002, it vanished quietly
-
until I met Isaak after a concert in 2007 and told
him it was one of his best songs. Two
years later, it finally made the album.
You're welcome, world.
In 2011, Isaak paid
direct tribute to his musical roots with BEYOND
THE SUN, a covers album recorded at the
legendary Sun Studios in Memphis. A
long-gestating labor of love, it should have
been a heartfelt homage
- lovingly made, clearly sincere, yet too often
dull, mimicking the originals without much wit
or freshness. Sort of a BAJA SESSIONS 2,
which no one needed. While it would be too
simple to say Erik Jacobsen was missed
– he was behind the similarly imperfect BAJA
SESSIONS
- it might have helped to have a strong hand work
with Isaak, who may have been too reverent to
the material to do anything odd or unique with
it. And yet, flashes. His version of
Jimmy Wages' obscure rockabilly stomper 'Miss
Pearl' is electric
- raw, joyful, and alive in a way the rest of the
album rarely matches. He doesn't just sing
it, he inhabits it, letting loose with a grin in
his voice that you can actually hear.
Covers like 'That Lucky Old Sun' offer something
more interpretive, showing Isaak's gift for
restraint and atmosphere, and even the hardly
surprising 'Can't Help Falling in Love With You'
somehow floats. For its missteps, BEYOND
THE SUN reminds us that even when Isaak loses
the plot, he can still deliver a moment that
stops you in your tracks. Isaak's most recent studio album, FIRST COMES THE NIGHT, arrived nearly a decade ago, and traces of his old darkness still flicker at the edges. The deluxe edition bonus track 'Some Days Are Harder Than the Rest' brims with tortured angst, while 'Reverie' is a gorgeously haunted ballad, well worth seeking out. But in recent years, Isaak has seemed increasingly drawn to a different kind of mood: CHRISTMAS. In 2022, he came full circle of sorts with EVERYBODY KNOWS IT'S CHRISTMAS, his second holiday album following 2004's Christmas. On these records, Isaak applies his potent voice to seasonal standards like 'White Christmas' alongside self-penned originals, revealing a softer, more wholesome side of his persona-far removed from the seedy, after-midnight melancholy that made his best work shimmer and ache. And I may add, rather less compelling.
At this point, it's
looking increasingly likely that we may never
get another full album of twelve new songs
steeped in heartbreak and quiet devastation
- and that's okay. Chris Isaak's career
remains a model of artistic coherence and
integrity. He carved out his world early
on, and instead of chasing trends or reinventing
himself for reinvention's sake, he stayed true
to the aching mood and noir romance that made
his best work so singular. If the curtain
has quietly fallen on his studio albums, it only
underscores how complete, and how deeply felt,
that body of work already is. He found his lane early - at the crossroads of rockabilly and broken-hearted crooning - and never strayed, choosing to mine that emotional terrain deeply rather than chase passing trends. The result is a discography with rare emotional continuity. You can line up SILVERSTONE (1985) and FIRST COMES THE NIGHT (2015) and hear the same artist, guided by sincerity and a singular vision. Chris Isaak remains a singular figure in American music. He inhabits a niche entirely of his own - post-modern late-night noir rockabilly heartbreak - and after all these years, he is the king. The moment you hear that twang of guitar and his voice aching, "I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you ...," you know exactly where you are. He may have never become a conventional superstar, but Isaak has crafted one of the most emotionally rich and consistent discographies in modern rock. |