Shelving 2005: The Singer-Songwriter Shelf

I’m still trying to shelve the CDs that the Music Spectrum office received in 2005. Here’s a look back at 2005 discs that are still spinning in my ears.


It’s not just that his voice sounds like James McMurtry; he can also weave a story out of small elements of setting and things in the room. Stephen Clair sings with McMurtry’s slightly deep, stilted Lou Reed phrasing that can then just as easily break open into Country melody. On Under the Bed (Valley Entertainment), “Gone Ten Years” tells of driving with his Grandpa, wondering if he’s still driving in the life after. That sentimentality which is grounded and never syrupy, walks in the footsteps of David Wilcox’s songwriting. Other places Clair kicks up the tempo to rock the Country like McMurtry for “It’s a Riddle.” Actually, “My Heart’s Not Broken” actually sounds very similar to McMurtry’s “Dusty Pages” (Candyland) as it starts. Now, I’m very happy to make such a strong comparison between Clair and McMurtry, because there’s never enough McMurtry songs. So I’ve been eager to hear someone else tap into this same well, unleashing good, pure, Artesian songs.

Collin Herring’s The Other Side of Kindness (Gravestone Picnic Records) jumps from the gate with “Back of Your Mind,” a Son Volt/Drivin’ ‘n’ Cryin’ burner with hints of Paul Westerberg cracks in his voice. “Aphorism” comes with the AltCountry of Jason Walker, while the atmosphere recalls Sam Roberts (although some people agree when I said (Roberts is AltCountry). Eleanor Whitmore’s haunting violin paints the foreboding scene of “Lazy Wind,” which has hues of Neil Young. Herring lands among other emerging AltCountry voices like Greg Hobbs, but with those dark tones of Young. Herring reaches into the other side of AltCountry—rock ‘n’ roll’s growl, such as the guitar screams on “Into the Morning.”

Like a lot of Country songs, “That Thing in Reno” celebrates the gambling, drinking, and hooking up party in Reno—except that the speaker also admits that that thing in Reno was a big mistake, caused him to lose his woman back home, and now he’s addicted to the gambling. Greg Winkler tells tales like this, opening up the conscience even as you’re enjoying the song. He sounds like Greg Brown with less resonance in his timbre and more twang in his folk. As an album Laugh a Little Longer (Slothtrop Music) starts with “Reno” which may give a little bit of the wrong impression, because the rest of the album is a lot less Country. “Still Ann” goes with an American Band Rock sound like Echelon or Jonathan Rundman with a grooving bass rock but a folkman’s voice like Lloyd Garrelts (Echelon) or Rundman—clear, no growl, little fragile and open, which invites you to rock without the posturing. This is definitely the highlight of the album. “Green Pick Up Truck” tells a tale in John Wesley Harding’s halting, conversational singing style. The title track, however, sounds like James Taylor which takes too much of the edge of Winkler’s folk.

P.J. Olsson is a folksong hipster whose “in the corner of the coffee shop” melodies are mixed and jammed up with some of the funk of Michael Franti (see review this issue), the Soup Dragons 90’s drum machine rock, or the rapster posturing of the Beatlesque rock of the New Radicals. Olsson’s songs on Beautifully Insane (Brash Music) resemble troubadour tunes, but they are mixed by DJ P.J. while giving a shout out to Grandmaster Flash as a “Soul Soul Superstar.” Olsson sings, “Gimme some backbeat now,” and he’s a singer-songwriter who knows what he would’ve done had he been able to have the late Jam Master Jay on stage with him. Olsson lets loose a song of pop beauty with “Medicated” while calling someone a bxxxh. How he puts that much sweetness in a line like “I’d rather be medicated than to/Be a bxxxh like you” is a little disorienting—singing along with a breezy tune and suddenly saying something cruel—but it leaves you with the feeling that Olsson’s actually breaking the truth gently, speaking the truth in love (sort of). The person addressed is acting horribly, and Olsson’s trying to admonish without smashing down.

Coming from a fragile place, Kelly Synder’s sings at the piano as if she’s either in a NYC apartment drowning out the city noises (“Nothing’s Ever Right” speaks of “clammy sidewalks” on a rainy day) or in a lake home overlooking the water (“Fall” includes the line “Lookin’ across the bay”). Her Oxygen album (Mother West) finds comparisons to the piano-led tunes of Rufus Wainwright, Charlotte Martin, and Rachel Yamagata. “Rescue Me” hits at Wainwright-like series of concluding chords early in the tune, and periodically throughout, as if the song will be over before it starts which matches the hopeful-turning lyric. A light dance beat is the backdrop for “I Don’t Know,” which has a R&B chorus where Snyder can show a little scat in her vocals. Additional production adds creepy whistling bottle rockets on which increases the ache in the tune. Like vamping over a George Winston piano line, Snyder adds her soulful melody to “So Bad” which deeps down deep into longing.

Toshi Reagon wields her acoustic guitar with blues intensity, busts out a Gospel voice, arms herself with R&B attitude, settles in to do the old blues street corner stomp, or fronts a full rock band. On the recent release, Have You Heard(Righteous Babe), you can hear echoes of Greg Brown, Janis Joplin, and label boss Ani Difranco. Daughter of former Sweet Honey in the Rock vocalist, Bernice Johnson Reagon, it’s no surprise to find those Gospel elements in Reagon’s writing. I love the title track for its prophetic look for signs of the Lord, although as far as I can tell, theologically Reagon and I divide when she apparently refers to God as female. While we might not be talking about the same God, I’d at least point to how her songs often mention the search for love, a search common to all people, a search which leads me back to my God.