Cary Baker's conqueroo - Chris Smither News Clips

SF GATE (SAN FRANCISCO CHRONICLE)

Troubadour Chris Smither takes on big philosophical questions on his latest release, Leave the Light On
Derk Richardson, special to SF Gate
Thursday, October 19, 2006

Seeing the truth is one thing. Telling it is another. Winning a laugh or two in the process is a precious bonus.

Chris Smither pulls off that tricky triple play more than once on his new album, Leave the Light On (Mighty Albert/Signature Sounds). In one potent example, the Massachusetts-based, blues-tinged singer-songwriter spins a pointed yarn about natural selection and creationism: God invents DNA and then sits back "in the shade while everyone gets laid," watching organisms "from paramecium to man ... mix up sections of their code." The song ends with Smither, in his woolly mumble of a voice, singing, "Yes, you and your cat named Felix / Are both wrapped up in that double helix / It's what we call intelligent design."

"I woke up with that verse almost written in my head," said Smither about "Origin of Species" in a recent phone interview from his home outside Boston. "I actually put it together lying there in bed. Then I woke my wife up. She muttered at me, and I said, 'Wait a minute, listen to this,' and I recited it. She laughed out loud, and I thought, 'I got something now -- if I can wake her up and make her laugh, I got something worthwhile."

Smither, who performs Thursday and Friday, Oct. 19-20, at the Freight & Salvage Coffeehouse in Berkeley, isn't particularly known for taking social or political stands in his songs. Rather, the 61-year-old, acoustic-guitar-picking New Orleans native established his early reputation on relatively uncomplicated love songs like "Love Me Like a Man" and "I Feel the Same" (both recorded by Bonnie Raitt), and his recent popularity stems from such investigations of life's mysteries as "Link of Chain," "Small Revelations," "Slow Surprise," "Hold On I," "Outside In" and "Train Home."

But on the new CD, two songs after "Origin of Species," Smither fires off a series of blue-state volleys against the current administration's policies: "Diplomacy" begins with "It's getting edgy, time to find a war," continues with such couplets as "We got the guns, we got the oilmen, too / They're like a choir, they wanna sing for you" and "We got some freedom, we got an iPod store / We got the savior, you couldn't ask for more" and ends with "It's the land of the free, blind and leadin' the lame."

"That's a reflection of both the times and how I feel about them," Smither explained of the chugging folk-rocker, which, like much of the new recording, features bass and drums and producer David Goodrich's additional guitar. "Frankly, it's just that I have more confidence in my own opinions and more willingness to express them. I'm older than the president. I've read a lot more books than he has. I'll say what I please. He gets a bully pulpit. I have a certain public exposure, so I'll say something before it's too late."

But if penning a protest is a departure for Smither, looking hard at the nature of reality isn't. Truth-seeking comes with the territory for a musician who lost a decade or more of a promising career to alcohol. After recording a pair of albums in the early 1970s, the Boston folk-scene veteran wasn't heard from much until the early '90s, when a series of albums for the Flying Fish and HighTone labels put him back on the map. Now he's a draw on the same contemporary-folk circuit as Guy Clark, Greg Brown and Tom Russell.

Over the years, Smither has come to a clearer understanding of his craft. "When I first started writing," he said, "the whole thing was so mysterious to me, I almost didn't dare think about it. I didn't know how the songs happened, and I would rely on inspiration to get the songs done. I'm much more disciplined about it now. There's a lot of work involved in it. You have to develop a certain willingness to just sit there and be determined that you're not going to get up until something happens. If you wait it out, it will happen."

Two things that set Smither apart from other coffeehouse troubadours are his use of folk- and country-blues forms (manifested in song structures and his quietly impressive fingerpicking) and his personal take on big philosophical questions -- what Chinese Zen master Kyong Ho called "the great matter of life and death."

Like other many other folk musicians of his vintage, Smither was drawn to the acoustic blues of such players as Lightnin' Hopkins (whose "Blues in the Bottle" he covers on Leave the Light On) and Mississippi John Hurt.

"In the early days, when I first heard them," he recalled, "I was entranced by the fact that it sounded like rock and roll -- but it was one-man rock and roll. And I never really wanted to be in a band. Plus, if you search in the blues, there are strokes of lyrical genius -- one-line things -- that just knock you out. It's a form that superficially seems to be limited, and yet if it's used properly it has the impact of a jackhammer. Blues is, of course, the forerunner of rock and roll, which is why I thought it was rock and roll, but it's set up to maximize the impact of those few good lines. That appealed to me. Plus, it was an easily graspable form, not too demanding for an unschooled musician. I've gotten a little more sophisticated since, and I keep trying to get a little more sophisticated."

On Leave the Light On, Smither -- who counts Dave Alvin and Paul Simon as influences, and says, "Randy Newman has informed my writing probably more than any other single songwriter" -- mixes blues with traditional folk ("John Hardy," featuring eerie background vocals by the neo-trad group Ollabelle), revealing cover versions (Peter Case's "Cold Trail Blues" and Bob Dylan's "Visions of Johanna") and inward-looking original compositions that could be called "dharma songs" -- songs that probe beneath the surface of everyday life and investigate the causes of suffering, the inevitability of impermanence and the potential for liberation.

Whether he's telling us that "Charlie Darwin looked so far into the way things are / He caught a glimpse of God's unfolding plan," grappling with the conundrums of thinking and feeling too much (when the answer won't be found "'til you quit all these questions and open up your heart") or reconciling himself to his father's death ("And all I've got to say is, by the way, you done good too"), Smither dispenses wisdom in tantalizing and entertaining packets (some of them ornamented on the new CD by mandolinist/fiddler/singer Tim O'Brien).

"It seems almost like luck, but I've gotten better at it," Smither said of his songwriting. "I think I'm better at writing coherent stuff. Nobody asks me too often anymore what the songs are about. They used to ask me that all the time. I think a lot about 'the Way.' That's what occupies me. It's a question of reading a lot and making connections and trying to explain things. I get into a lot of discussions with people, and I find myself resorting to analogies to explain how I feel about things, and analogies are just a way of making the elusive a little more concrete. Maybe that's it -- you come up with a good example, and people go, 'Oh, I get it.' If you can do that and make it rhyme and scan metrically, so much the better -- you've got a song."

Or, in Smither's case, you have 10 songs here and 10 songs there, and pretty soon that adds up to a serious body of work.

ASSOCIATED PRESS

Music Review: Smither and Clark Shine
By STEVEN WINE, Associated Press Writer
Friday, September 22, 2006

Guy Clark, "Workbench Songs" (Dualtone)
Chris Smither, "Leave The Light On" (Signature Sounds)

The cover photos accompanying these CDs focus on the artists' hands — leathery, wrinkled and grasping a guitar. The music confirms their deft touch.

Guy Clark and Chris Smither are smart songwriters with shot-glass voices and catalogs that go back more than 30 years. As Clark's "Workbench Songs" and Smither's "Leave The Light On" show, both are at the top of their game.

The sets offer plenty of sweet, mostly subdued acoustic picking. Smither's supporting cast includes multi-instrumentalist Tim O'Brien, while Shawn Camp and Verlon Thompson are among those backing Clark. And on both discs, the material is excellent.

Smither's hilarious "Origin of Species" takes on intelligent design with references to paramecium and double helix. His rocking "Diplomacy" skillfully skewers Washington's warmongers, and "Father's Day" is a lovely ballad about his dad. He closes with three excellent covers, including Dylan's "Visions of Johanna" and the best version of "John Hardy" since the Kingston Trio.

Clark usually writes alone, but on "Workbench" he shares composing credit on nine originals with such writers as Thompson and Rodney Crowell, and the partnerships work. The opener "Walkin' Man" neatly blends Woody Guthrie and Chuck Berry. Clark offers a tornado song to rival Bruce Springsteen's recent gem. "Cinco de Mayo in Memphis" is as good as the title, and "Funny Bone" is even better — sweet, sad and funny.

With Clark and Smither, the singer-songwriter craft remains in good hands.