Behind The Eight/Count Your Blessings, Michael McDermott (from the Pauper Sky Records releases East Jesus and Lighthouse on the Shore)
For nearly a decade, Michael McDermott has been on a creative tear, releasing more albums in that period than many artists create during their entire careers. And apparently he’s not interested in slowing down; rather, he wants to push even harder. The result is two albums released simultaneously: Lighthouse on the Shore and East Jesus.
They’re positioned as acoustic and electric albums, respectively, but McDermott blurs the lines. The constant across both albums is songwriting that is as lyrically introspective and emotionally charged as it is melodic and musically engaging.
Let’s start with Lighthouse on the Shore. It opens with “Bradbury’s Dream”, which ostensibly imagines sitting in a diner with the late Ray Bradbury, who has dreamed about the imminent end of the world. It transitions to a love song, however, as McDermott reflects on a romantic partnership, declaring “some people will be crying, I’m sure some people will be sad, I just hope I’m smiling thinkin’ bout the life we had”.
“Goddamnit Lovely” considers a relationship that’s collapsing, complete with the typical McDermott lyrical wisdom – “we hold on to our scars like old souvenirs” – before ultimately arriving at a sad conclusion. “It’s one of those things that’s hard to explain,” he sings, “how something you love can just fade away”.
It’s hard not to appreciate the irony of a piano ballad that carries the sing-along title “Hey La Hey #23”. The song tells the tale of a patron trying to pick up a bartender with, of course, more McDermott lyrical nuggets including “I said, ‘Hey bartender, pour me a new outlook on life’”.
“Count Your Blessings” wondrously builds to captivating chorus, putting a life of hardship and disappointment in perspective:
You don’t know how good you got it
Until you try to live without it
How could I have ever been so blind
You don’t know how good you got it
So say a prayer for the broken-hearted
And count all your blessings tonight
And then there’s the electrified East Jesus. Opener “FCO” – the airport code for Rome, Italy – is his reflection on life as a touring musician. “Are we winning or losing man, these days it’s getting hard to tell,” he considers, “and the last few miles are the longest ones”.
“A Head Full of Rain” exhorts not being too hard on oneself and trying to maintain a positive outlook in the face of negativity. “It’s sunny every day, it’s just sometimes the clouds get in the way,” he sings, “It’s sunny every day, don’t let them steal your light away”.
The title track is a stark self-reflection and a recognition that deep rooted personal challenges are a constant struggle:
Sometimes I wonder…what is broken inside me?
Who breaks a butterfly under a wheel?
Sometimes I wonder where is the love that’ll guide me?
Sometimes I wonder if that which is broken will heal
McDermott considers lost love on “Lost Paradise” and “Charlie Brown”. The former song, an uplifting rocker, imagines reconnecting with a lost love but ultimately concluding “Wouldn’t it be pretty, wouldn’t it be nice, but you never step into the same river twice”. The latter song conjures up the famed cartoon character to describe a failed relationship as McDermott decrees, ““We always wind up on the ground…”.
The furious rocker “Behind the Eight” is a song of perseverance. “You gotta hold on tight before it slips away, remember it’s alright if you’re not ok,” he proclaims, “it’s just one more day behind the eight”. In addition to referencing J. D. Salinger’s Holden Caulfield at several points, McDermott makes a great lyrical throw-back to Paul Simon’s “Mrs. Robinson”. In the song, Caulfield tells him “but you might wanna stick around, Cuz DiMaggio is coming to bat.”
“Whose Life I’m Living” starts quietly with just McDermott’s piano but builds in intensity as the full band joins in mid-song. The song paints a moving portrait of the struggle to define one’s identity, reflecting on the path taken verses the path desired. “So see, I’ve tried to be so many things I’m not sure who I’m supposed to be,” he reflects, “Or who it is that I am now…”.
East Jesus and Lighthouse on the Shore are tremendous showcases of McDermott’s lyrical breadth and depth, not to mention his ability to craft engaging melodies. In the end I guess it doesn’t matter when an album is acoustic or electric – a great song will always be a great song. And McDermott’s got plenty of those.
Southern Comfort, Michelle Malone (from the SBS Records release Southern Comfort)
Michelle Malone has been an anchor in the Atlanta music scene for decades now. Even as she takes her talents as a singer, songwriter, and guitarist across the US and around the world, there’s a taste of Atlanta infused in her music.
And, in the title track of her latest album, Malone makes it clear that it’s a two-way street. “Now I’m stuck here in New York City watching the snow swirl,” she laments before confessing “if I make it back to Atlanta I’ll find a reason to believe in a little southern comfort.”
There’s plenty more Southern sounds and stories to be found on Southern Comfort. Take the catchy “Like Mother, Like Daughter”, her tribute to Southern motherhood. “Cause she’s hard-headed, lead-footed, tough to the bone,” she sings, “rooted deep in her Southern ways”.
Malone brings a bit of southern rock boogie to “Undercover Mother”, an entertaining tale of a single mother who works as an undercover police officer. “You dont wanna mess around ‘cause she will take you downtown, brother” she warns.
Several songs, taken together capture the life cycle of a romantic relationship. “One Track Mind” is a laid back but rockin’ love song injected with a sense of humor. “Some people think a mile a minute about a million different things,” she declares, “I’m a narrow-minded fool for you.” Things start to go, um, south, as Malone takes a lover to task on the fiesty “Barbed Wire Kisses”. “Barbed wire kisses like a rusty chain around my heart,” she decries. The ballad “Believe” finds Malone lamenting a lost love. The ache in Malone’s voice, especially on the chorus, adding to the song’s melancholy.
If you’re looking for Southern rock with both attitude and charm, you’d best give Southern Comfort a listen.
Kick the Devil Away, Sophie Gault (from the Strong Place Music release Baltic Street Hotel)
There are lots of demons floating around Sophie Gault’s latest album. They make themselves known right from the start in opening ballad “Over & Out”. The song finds the singer trying to salvage a relationship, pleading “I’m only doing things the best way I know how, trying to figure it out, don’t give up on me now”.
Intensity creeps in, alongside a Fleetwood Mac vibe, on “Kid on the Radio”, a seeming nod to dealing with the vagaries of the music business. “Maybe someone’s not exactly who you thought they were, won’t be the last time & you know it’s not the first,” she sings, “But they can’t take your love away”.
Gault gets fiery on “Fixin’ Things”, a bristling rocker about standing up for oneself. “All that I can say is that I’m sick of saying sorry,” she declares, “I wanna set the record straight and tell a different story”.
The percussive “Kick the Devil Away” adds some power pop to the mix, albeit while maintaining its country rock flavor. The raucous fun continues on “Poet in a Buick”, the entertaining tale of a short order cook who writes poetry. Both wouldn’t be out of place on an early Lucinda Williams album.
She closes the album with a note of optimism in the form of “Things are Going Good”. “Things are going good, better than they should,” she sings against a gently insistent rhythm, “hurry up and knock on wood when things are going good”.
Simple Things, Kevin Gordon (from the self-released The In Between)
They say to write what you know. In that vein, Kevin Gordon is a master of the trade. The singer-songwriter is a true son of the South, reared in Louisiana but eventually relocating to Nashville. His life experience comes to life in his songs, both musically and lyrically.
Gordon’s recent albums have centered around character-driven storytelling but his latest focuses more on evoking moments and emotions. It’s perhaps not surprising given the environment of the past several years. There was the Covid pandemic, of course, but also Gordon’s own experience battling cancer. The resulting sense of uncertainty and mortality permeate The In Between.
The title track reflects on the impermanence of life – raising kids and then watching them leave, spending 30 years as a touring musician, and, of course, trying to understand the Covid quarantine.
Woke up this morning, wondering where it all went
Thirty years of yearning, and miles and money spent
I can’t get it back, no, I don’t drive no time machine
Just a dude pushing through
To the end of the in-between
Gordon goes deeper on the quarantine on album opener “Simple Things”. The simple things in question are the ability to share time with another. “But maybe soon I can hold your hand, drink a beer in a bar and hear a rock n’roll band,” he sings against the backdrop of a pounding rhythm and the melodic grit of electric guitar.
An equally catchy guitar driven melody propels “Coming Up”, his ode to a life spent pursuing rock and roll dreams. “Hours to ride, some songs to play,” he proclaims before describing what it’s like to see the sun rise while driving to the next gig.
“Love Right” is Gordon’s raucous take on a love song. His version is about trying to figure it all out, ultimately concluding, “You do the best you can, accept and understand… And get your love right”.
Gordon closes the album with the gritty ballad-ish “You Can’t Hurt Me No More”, a powerful song about the mixed emotions of moving forward after a failed relationship. Gordon admits that “I love you still, against my will,” but ultimately declares, “You didn’t drop me like a gunshot when I saw you today, You can’t hurt me no more”. A moving close to an album that is a welcome addition to the Gordon rock and roll canon.
Steel City Blues, Golden Everything (from the Rancho Deluxe release Sweet Old World)
I love the backstory about this album. A friend of Zach Schmidt and Jackie Berkley was setting up a new recording studio and wanted to give it a trial run. Fast forward and, as is wont to happen, the duo emerged with a complete album.
There’s a sweetness that flows through Sweet Old World. It starts with the duo’s warm and inviting vocal harmonies and flows through songs that maintain an uplifting air even as they lament troubled times. They sing about coping with challenges that stretch from the personal to the societal. In the former category are songs like “Is There Anyone Out There” and “Holdin’ On”, both focused on finding a path forward through personal adversity. “I’d carry the weight of the weary, take up the task of the tired,” they sing on “Is There Anyone Out There”, “if I could find a way to make it one more day and become someone that I admire”.
“Steel City Blues”, an album standout, is a wistful tale of heartbreak that has an engaging warmth. The magic of Berkley’s and Schmidt’s voices breathe life into melancholy lines like “I was staring at the setting sun wondering why most things come undone”.
Songs like “The Big One” and “Sweet Old World” turn their eye to a broader world view. The happy-go-lucky vibe of “The Big One” stands in sharp contrast to fatalist lyrics like “you can’t change the plan or the mind of a man whose heart is hardened by hate”. “Sweet Old World” overflows with a world weariness that stands in contrast to the song’s title. At one point, the duo describe a “fat man singing an ‘Ode to Old Glory’” and then declaring, “I was tired of his one-sided story of a dream no one remembers that will never come again”.
Number and a Street, Malin Pettersen (from the Die With Your Boots On Records release Acoustic Acts of Rebellion)
The last outing from Norway’s Malin Pettersen was a full band and pop-oriented affair. Her latest release takes her musical journey in a different, stripped down direction. Very stripped down – she recorded the songs at home on acoustic guitar. The starkness makes the songs that much more intense.
“Seasons” and “Speed of Life” both focus on the passage of time in a relationship. The former centers on how people change, just like the seasons, while the latter is more reflective, looking backward on a bond that has persisted over a lifetime.
Pettersen also explores connections fractured and unraveled. “Ain’t Love a Wicked Friend” finds the singer pining for someone who has drifted away. “Number and a Street” is especially striking. Pettersen describes standing outside an apartment, reflecting on the relationship that blossomed there. “I fell for you two floors above concrete,” she sings, “and now you’re just a number and a street”.
Ready to Fall, Denitia (from the self-released Sunset Drive)
Denitia’s Sunset Drive is a grower. The more I listen to it, the more I am captivated by it. The Nashville-based singer’s voice is warm and earnest, her songs lustrous and charming.
Part of what makes the album so enjoyable is the eclectic nature of the songs and their arrangements. They share a common thread in their eminently catchy melodies – Denitia knows how to craft a melodic hook – as she straddles the line between country and pop. On the country end of the spectrum are gems like “Gettin’ Over”, “Back to You” and “I Don’t Get High”. “I Don’t Get High” starts as a tear-jerk ballad but builds in intensity as Denitia acknowledges that a love has faded. The shoe is on the other foot in “Back to You”, a happy-go-lucky tale of heartbreak that finds her admitting, “In every story that I write myself into, every word just leads me right on back to you”.
“Gettin’ Over” wonderfully recalls classic Dolly Parton as the singer proclaims:
I’m getting over getting out from under
Gotta find a way to the top
When you think you’re on a roll
This life will do a number
In the pop realm are the supremely catchy “I Won’t Look Back” and “Ready to Fall”. Both are insistent tales of falling in love, the latter representing roughly three minutes of pure pop bliss.
Sunset Drive is a testament to the range of Denitia’s talent. I’m already anticipating what she does next.
Getting By, Tyler-James Kelly (from the Clover Music Group release Dream River)
Leave it to Providence, Rhode Island’s Tyler-James Kelly to remind us what true, honest country sounds like. His debut solo release (he previously fronted rock band The Silks) plays like an album from a bygone era.
He kicks things off with “Company I Keep”, its ambling rhythm punctuated by harmonica. The song wonderfully conjures up images of sitting by a lake with friends on a lazy Sunday afternoon. The scene is similar for the title track as Kelly celebrates the rural lifestyle, singing:
Out here I’m free to be my own man
Where my soul is safe in a good woman’s hands
Here I will stay where the tall pine sway
I’ll cherish this feelin the rest of my days
The relaxed feel continues, albeit with a more winsome feel, on “Getting By”. “I’m getting by”, he sings repeatedly, before adding, “one disaster at a time”.
“Traveling Troubadour”, sounding like a long-lost Waylon Jennings classic, features some fine electric guitar finger-picking goodness. The song tells the tale of a musician at the crossroads, a seasoned road warrior who can no longer find gigs to play.
“Only One” has shades of The Band, never a bad thing, right down to the mandolin that weaves its way across the song. “Mud Money” takes a heavy blues rocker originally recorded by The Silks and recasts it as a glorious acoustic honky-tonker.
“Going Strong” might as well be Kelly’s anthem. “I don’t need a thing but an old six string to keep me going strong”, he sings against a musical backdrop filled with tasty harmonica, fiddle, and dobro. Sounds about right.
Crazy Time to Be Alive, Matt Sucich (from the Five and Dime Records release Talking at Walls)
There’s a difference between the studio and the stage. It’s a point that Brooklyn’s Matt Sucich drives home with his latest release. Sucich brought his band to a Nashville studio to revisit songs from his catalog and to record, as he describes it, “live to no one”. These live in the studio performances show that the songs have aged well. Very well, in fact. More to the point, Sucich and company give the them the edge that they have honed with their live shows.
Sucich also snuck a new song into the collection. The solo acoustic “Crazy Time To Be Alive” fits well, with the songwriter quietly taking stock of the world around him. He does so without necessarily describing what he sees but rather trying to put it into perspective. “I don’t think much of myself, I think we’re all just faking it,” he sings, later adding “No matter what, you are your mothers child”.
Firefly, Sean Barna (from the Kill Rock Stars Records release Internal Trembling)
Sean Barna has mined glam rock over his past few albums but takes a different path with his latest EP, enlisting bluegrass group Hawktail and indie folk singer-songwriter Mirah to bring his latest batch of songs to life.
Even stripped down, though, Barna’s music bristles with intensity. “Firefly” chronicles a relationship that failed even though there is love that remains. “You can choose the path you’ll take and I will do my best to wait,” he sings.
Fiddle is featured prominently on the nostalgic “Jack Rabbit Hill”, which finds Barna reflecting on youthful innocence and the path he’s taken to current day. “And I go back there sometimes,” he admits, “Something draws me in”.
The theme of seeking companionship permeates the EP, including the title track and album closer “Lake City”. Both feature Mirah’s harmonies prominently, adding to their emotional impact. “Can you keep a good secret? Won’t you keep one for me?,” he asks in “Internal Trembling” before confessing, “I’m in love with you”.
Living Half to Death, William Matheny (from the self-released The Poor Message Bringer)
“It’s like I’m hearing them now for the first time,” sings William Matheny in “Bird of Youth”. While the context of the lyric is different in the song, it’s an apt description of the recently released The Poor Message Bringer.
The EP features four previously released Matheny gems stripped down to their acoustic core. The arrangements focus attention on Matheny’s well-crafted lyrics. “Blood Moon Singer”, originally from 2017’s Strange Constellations, may be more about an artist’s life playing dive bars (“I’ve been a poor message bringer if you need a little writing for the wall”) but it strikingly captures a missed romantic opportunity, “loving from afar ain’t no love at all”.
“Living Half to Death” is a companion to Tom Petty’s “Apartment Song”. “I used to live in an apartment, it was just me and the bugs,” he sings. Yet while Petty’s song is about dealing with loneliness, Matheny’s is a reflection on a destructive period. “I was abusing all my friendships and I was drinking all their beer,” he admits before continuing:
I used to say that I was sorry oh, but I should have saved my breath
‘Cause I was sorry for nothing When I was living half to death
Beyond shining a light on Matheny’s songwriting, The EP also showcases his guitar-playing skills. Matheny unleashes some mighty fine acoustic picking, most notably on these two tracks. Whether one is an existing or potential fan, The Poor Message Bringer is an enjoyable listen.
Seasons, Graham Weber (from the self-released Old Young Man)
Graham Weber, singer-songwriter for Austin rock band Restos, scratches his acoustic songwriter itch on his just-released solo album. Depending on the song, Weber conjures up the classic Texas troubadours like Guy Clark and Townes Van Zandt or one of the many songsmiths that wandered the streets of Greenwich Village in the 1960’s. In the former category are “Midnight Serenade”, an ode to his daughter, and the ambling “Seasons”. In the latter category are the wistful title track and the opening “Someday”, itself a dream about living in New York City, and the lilting waltz “Lullaby for Everyone”.
He also channels Harry Nilsson on the jaunty intro to “You Baby” and the pop standard stylings of “Not For Now” (think A Little Touch of Schmilsson in the Night). Never a bad thing in my book.
The Sky’s In Love With You, Aloud (from the self-released Observer Affect)
Aloud may live in LA these days but came of age in Boston. In that vein, it’s not a surprise that they carry on the tradition of Boston’s electrifying power pop groups like Letters to Cleo and Gigolo Aunts. And that’s a good thing.
Their latest hits the spot with melodic hooks and roaring electric guitars. Opener “The Sky’s in Love With You” is particularly catchy, balancing electric and acoustic guitars as the group reflects on not being able to escape the memory of someone from the past. They mine similar lyrical territory with “A Week Without Rain” with its amusing line “you’ve jackknifed my heart since ‘92”.
They crank up the electric guitars for “Corners of the Universe”, a classic tale of passing the blame. “Believe, believe, the problem’s not with me, this corner of the universe never suited me,” they sing.
The tempo slows, at least a bit, for the melancholy “The Last Light”. The song chronicles the painful moment that a relationship is coming to an end, describing “The last light in their eyes as they say their goodbyes.”
If you’re in the mood for a power pop energy jolt, Aloud have you covered with Observer Affect.
Roses, Greg Hall (from the self-released Birds & Roses)
I got to know Greg Hall as the high energy bass player with Ward Hayden and the Outliers. On his Birds & Roses ep, however, he showcases his singer-songwriter side. The arrangements are beautifully stripped to the core, his voice and acoustic guitar in the forefront.
He opens the album on a pseudo-positive note, at least in the context of this song collection, with “Birds”. Said birds provide some inspiration as Hall confesses, “hope’s a consolation when you’re looking for a meaning”.
“Roses” finds Hall clearly conflicted about a relationship, a rose garden serving as both the location and metaphor for his internal monologue. “Surely one little secret, won’t cause any harm,” he sings, “who knew that all of our suffering could be solved in each other’s arms.”
“Ohio Through a Window” has a similar lyrical tension, Hall singing about a relationship that has seemingly run its course. “You’re gonna go when we make it home,” he admits, “it doesn’t have to be said I already know”.
He lightens things up, at least a bit, with “Circus Train”. The song has an air of wistfulness as Hall describes being surprised when the circus comes to town, only to see the town return to its quiet loneliness when it departs.
Truckee River Blues, John Calvin Abney (from the self-released Shortwaving)
John Calvin Abney excels at painting musical landscapes. His new EP only builds on that reputation, its five songs haunting and evocative. Opener “Shortwaving” is propelled by a trudging, deliberate rhythm while the wail of Abney’s electric guitar and harmonica give the song an air of desperation. Lyrics about isolation and loneliness only add to the feeling, Abney repeating “it gets awful quiet” as the song reaches its conclusion.
Even before Abney sings “hammer down through green country, listen to the dusk mother cry” in “Arkansas River Bridge”, the combination of an acoustic guitar with an ethereal electric guitar wail conjuring up an image of driving a desolate rural highway. “No Place Left” mines similar restless ground as Abney sings, “the truth of our terrain lives in the space between the strip malls and the rain”.
Closer “Truckee River Blues” recalls Magnolia Electric Company as restrained verses explode into a wash of guitar and percussion on the chorus. The song portrays a bare-threaded relationship, with Abney vividly explaining, “’Come on over’ left unsent from my phone, there’s budget salvation in leaving someone alone”. It’s a powerful conclusion to a compelling release.
About the author: Mild-mannered corporate executive by day, excitable Twangville denizen by night.