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Despite big words for Ray LaMontagne’s Trouble and Till the Sun Turns Black, I’ve often whined that I prefer his solo performances and stripped-down demos. Ethan Johns’s gussying up of the label releases is well done and all, but it sometimes feels like window dressing, unnecessary. Similarly, though Joe Farren’s ‘Til the Day features some very fine production and a number of great musical performances on nearly every tune, why does the six-minute-plus final track, “Go On,” full of nothing but guitar, vocals, and a little harmonica, seem like our first introduction to the real Joe Farren?
Sure, Farren, a music-school grad and veteran of the Portland club scene with Shufflin’ Tremble, plays all kinds of the guitars, drums, piano, and other instruments on this album, but when they’re put all together (alongside very capable Nashville and Portland session players, I might add) things can seem a bit cluttered. Take the nigh-on-spectacular “Savannah,” which opens the disc. Farren’s delivery is endearing and soulful, and the powerhouse chorus is the child of “Sweet Home Alabama” and Gary Louris, but there’s so much vying for your attention — organ and strings and electric guitar and saxophone and echoed second vocal tracks — the song can’t quite shine through the performance.
| ‘Til The Day | Released by Joe Farren | at Slainte, in Portland | Aug 31 |
Big studio-created bands have always struck me as a Napoleonic songwriter’s overcompensation (or an irresistible plaything). Farren shouldn’t be afraid to let himself be the star. He writes a competent couplet — ”You always liked the spotlight/To play someone else’s life made your own seem alright” — and his habit of using an expected final word to transition into the beginning of a follow-on line elicits pleasant surprises. His play on contemporary country pulls out the big fiddles, pedal steel, and major chords without delving into the bravado or sanctimony.Those paragraphs amount to a compliment wrapped in some pissy criticism, I suppose. Did I mention “Broken Man” suckered me with a mix of sounds like Bob Seger playing “Thunder Rolls?” That the mix on this album, thanks to Tom Acousti, is one of the best I’ve heard this year?
To return to the earlier theme, though: This cover of the Beatles’ “Something” perplexes me. With a piano and time-keeping high hat, Farren doesn’t do enough to differentiate it in the opening, and when he grinds the bridge and lets Richard Griffin’s sax solo run on, it’s just not a tune Farren needs on his solo album. I bet it kicks ass live, and Farren would make a terrific bandleader in general, but as part of an economical 12 tracks it seems more like a throw-in than something to say. Whose name is on the spine of this disc?
Look, the guy played Danny Zuko in Grease, but he could use a little more turned-up-collar swagger on ‘Til the Day.
“Lie to Me,” a soldier’s entreaty, evokes some impressive imagery and emotion, as he frets, “You say, I don’t laugh/Not like I used to, you say/Where’s that boy/A year ago I said goodbye to,” but when the burning resentment of the verse rolls into a hopeful desperation, it feels like a punch pulled. How can the same guy who spits, “When you were shooting down tequila/I was lining up the dead in rows,” then beg, “lie to me/Give one more peaceful night to me/Let your morning kisses lie to me?” I think the Dixie Chicks, whose sound the fiddler here apes, would have turned the knife.
But I’m quibbling with semantics and minor points. “Still on My Mind” drips with pedal steel and Farren’s introductory falsetto, the country version of Tony McNaboe. “Red Jacket” is quick and punchy, dobro riffs running in and out of the harmonica. “Believe” features a piano pretty enough to hang on the wall. These are strong, polished, heart-felt songs, sung and played from the soles of Farren’s shoes.
He’s always playing to the room, which is unsurprising considering his steady solo work. To survive in that environment, you’ve got to earn people’s attention by figuring out what they want to hear, probing for an opening as the crowd ripens. The bluesy “I’m Coming Home,” swaying with organ and harmonica, has a particularly boozy allure that indicates Farren is the type of entertainer who gets rapidly more appealing as your buzz increases (and that’s a compliment).
I don’t think you need to get plastered to make this disc enjoyable, but a couple glasses of wine wouldn’t hurt. The album gives off a warm, fuzzy glow, anyway. Why fight it?
On the Web
Joe Farren: www.joefarren.com
Email the author
Sam Pfeifle: sam_pfeifle@yahoo.com
