The words “surprising” and “folk music” rarely appear together in the same sentence. There are plenty of good reasons for that. Perhaps the most common is just that people like what’s familiar. Most artists are trying, at some level, to perform music their fans like. So picking up where you left off the last time they heard you makes sense. That’s not to say musicians aren’t always pushing themselves to try something new and unexpected, but just there’s some calibration that happens. That calibration has roots in the environment. If you grew up in Appalachia, that influences your perspective. So what happens if you grow up in Tanzania, Kenya, Louisiana, and Ecuador? And then start your musical journey in heavy metal before switching to jazz and then folk? I’ll take “who is Garrett Owen” for a hundred, Alex.
The son of career missionaries, Owen learned to be open to a lot of different viewpoints and it comes through in his new album, Memoriam. Written primarily while he was taking care of his ailing Japanese grandmother, the record includes some soul-searching about life lessons set to a broad expanse of musical styles enveloped in a folk music delivery. Rosemary And Thieves is almost a pop ballad, with bits of The Beatles or art rock flavoring. When Owen sings “she used to keep such a beautiful garden, but now she just waters the weeds”, you know it’s a reference to his grandmother. Catastrophic Proportions is jazzier and is one of several songs with a strong current of piano under the acoustic guitar. It’s about a lopsided relationship where our protagonist is “the sunken treasure you’d rather see buried.”
Several of the songs tell the story of heartbreak, in one form or another. Pony Express is a ballad with some rock undertones and catchy guitar hooks about wishing you could blame someone else for the error of your ways. Punchline leaves you wondering about the outcome of “one more doctor’s order, the pills keep coming.” The most hopeful tune, with its own irony, is Beautiful Stain. Owen hopes to “just let me remain, a spot on your brain, a beautiful stain.”
As you’ve no doubt gathered by now, this is not a cheerful album. Neither is it a cry-in-your-beer, navel gazing experience. Sure, there’s some angst and melancholy. Instead of wallowing in it, Garrett Owen sets it all to gorgeous acoustic arrangements that leave you richer for the experience. So embrace a little unexpected and go listen to Memoriam.
About the author: I've actually driven from Tehatchapee to Tonopah. And I've seen Dallas from a DC-9 at night.