It was the summer of 2006 when I chanced upon Joan Wasser for the first time, performing in her Joan As Police Woman guise, at a venue called the Spitz near central London’s Spitalfields Market. I had no idea who she was, I had not attended the intimate club size room to see her, I think I was there on a press duty covering the support act but stuck around to see the main event. If my memory is correct Joan was playing a weekly residency there for a month. That name was a curiosity obviously, maybe this was going to be a stand-up comedy routine? But as she hit the stage with her trio, playing mostly from the piano stool although occasionally strapping on a guitar, it very quickly dawned on me that I was in the presence of an artist playing a set that I would be, and now actually am, talking about decades later. She had a real command on stage that night, an undeniable authority even extending to breaking a song off midway through to invite people talking at the bar to leave. In a music environment that suddenly seemed to be producing acres of fey introspective singer-songwriter types, over indulgently turning their dreary diary entries into equally dreary ballads, here was someone with a direct line to the core of the human experience, turning that connection into impossibly well-crafted songs that plugged straight into our emotive senses. That night Joan was performing songs from her debut album ‘Real Life,’ a record that sounded like an instant classic to these ears at the time and has not diminished in the slightest over the past twenty years, its quality remains true.

As well as being impressed by the material that night I was equally mesmerized by the musician herself. She clearly had a dexterity beyond your average troubadour; the piano work especially had the touch of a classical performer whereas the guitar songs shone a light on Joan’s harder edges. The same kind of contrasts were apparent in her voice as well, it could be as tender, pure of tone and heartfelt as a Karen Carpenter recital but again, you sensed a more streetwise cutting edge pulsing just below the surface. Joan was obviously a performer of a higher stripe, the kind who gets inside the music she is performing and equally, not the type who would find any artistic merit in dialling in a photocopy performance. Which brings me onto the motivation and welcome rewards that come from this new release, a full ten track re-recording and vivid re-imagining of the songs from ‘Real Life.’ Whilst this is technically an anniversary, there is nothing nostalgic about this project. Joan is reviving the material in this way because she wants to stay connected to it, like Dylan has been doing for decades, she wants to keep her best music alive and free from stagnation to both her audience as well as herself by breathing fresh air and exposing new light to the original templates. Add to that the inevitable changes an artist goes through having lived through another twenty summers, the wisdom and maturity realised, and instantly this work becomes as valid and worthy of immersion as anything in her impressive catalogue.  

It sounds like the songs were felt their way towards depending on Joan’s personal attachments to them in 2026. Nothing is radically re-worked for the sake of it, in fact there are certain tracks that stick respectfully close to their original form, although others feel like they were totally destroyed before being rebuilt from scratch. It is an approach Joan has discussed ahead of this release, stating that if she ever felt bored with older material she would “reinvent them until the joy came back, not as an act of revision, but of rediscovery. Songs live beyond their creators. Like us, they settle into themselves over time, finding their own equilibrium. That spirit is the pulse of this new album.” There is a totally fresh cast of collaborators for this project too, Iggy Pop being one of the headline names who infuses ‘Save Me’ with his own identifiable signature so effectively it now plays like a lurching, dirty rock beast. Then there is Krystal Warren who helps transform ‘Save Me’ into the slinkiest of soft-soul grooves, a radical departure from the original Anhoni collaboration. Also ‘We Don’t Own It,’ which I recall Joan saying back in 2006 was written in memory of Elliott Smith, now moves away from the hushed guitar ballad of before into a breezy slow reggae realm built on understated electronica.

Joan has taken care to highlight the pedigree of the other key participants too. She credits “from my current touring trio, Will Graefe brings his emotionally masterful guitar work and Jeremy Gustin his remarkable rhythmic sensibility. Parker Kindred’s inventive drum creations were the spark behind other [tracks]. Thomas Bartlett unlocked a new dimension of the title track and added Rhodes bass throughout. This album gave me the chance to reunite, decades on, with upright bassist Tony Scherr, guitarist Oren Bloedow, and funk bassist Danny Blume, musicians whose artistry has only deepened with time.” That title track, along with the gloriously open and vulnerable ‘Anyone,’ formed the strongest pillars of the original album and so they remain today. Indicative of how close to perfection Joan arrived first time around, these are the two songs that bare the closest resemblances to their originals. I hold the 2006 version of ‘Real Life’ in such high regard that I was actually a little nervous as it approached here, newly repositioned as the closing number. I did not need to worry, it is a little more lived in now but by the time we get to the line about never including a name in a song before, the goosebumps still rise up vigorously. And why does that happen? Because this is real life and so am I. And because ‘Real Life’ was, and remains in its modern rendition, an incredible album.

Danny Neill

You can buy a physical copy of the album here: https://amzn.to/4eCx2mh