It has
been a hard week for me and my circle of friends, as on Monday we all collectively
said our goodbyes to our dear and close friend, Karen Wipond.
Moments
after she passed, I was walking to meet up with my friend (and Karen’s partner)
Nick, focusing hard on keeping it together. I decided that listening to some CD
Odyssey related album in that moment was too much and went with the rarely used
“random all” setting on my MP3 player. It holds around 17,000 songs and the one
that came on first? Bill Withers’ “Lean on Me”.
When I did
find it within myself to get back to the Odyssey, the randomly selected album
was this next one by Matt Patershuk. An album that, like the Bill Withers tune,
was exactly the sentiment that needed expressing.
Disc 1380 is…. I Was
So Fond of You
Artist:
Matt Patershuk
Year of Release: 2016
What’s up with the
Cover?
A Giant Head Cover. In this case the Giant Head was painted by Patershuk’s
sister, Clare, who was killed by a drunk driver on the Canada Day weekend of
2013. No jokes about the Giant Head this time.
How I Came To Know
It: I
read about Patershuk in a Canadian folk music magazine called Penguin Eggs. I
think it was the album after this one, but I got here by drilling backward.
How It Stacks Up: I have four Matt
Patershuk albums now. Of the four, “I Was So Fond of You” is #1. And that’s
saying something, because Matt Patershuk records are consistently excellent.
Ratings: 4 stars
Whew. Tough week, but Matt Patershuk was just what Dr. Music prescribed;
a gentle collection of narrative gems glugging out bittersweet songs at the
crossroads of folk and country, like a tipped over bottle of bourbon.
Patershuk has a voice that was built to make a room quiet without ever
yelling. He just seems the type that when he speaks, people listen. When he
sings it’s even better. His baritone is smooth and full and within the first
couple of lines it sinks you deep into whatever story Patershuk is telling.
The record additionally benefits from the backing vocals of Ana Egge. Regular
readers will know my love for Egge’s solo work, but it was her efforts on Patershuk’s
records that discovered her to me in the first place. She sings in what I think
is the same key as Patershuk, only one octave higher (I could be wrong, I’m not
good at that sort of thing). Whatever she’s doing, it is perfect, coming in on
the most poignant parts of the song and adding a sting of folksy sweetness on
top of Patershuk’s rustic, country troubadour style delivery.
The record has plenty of sad moments, notably the title track, which is
an ode to Patershuk’s dead sister, Clare. It was hard to listen to this song
this week, but it was also therapeutic. Patershuk is sad, but he’s also grateful
for the great memories. It is a good perspective, and worth internalizing. The
song is the most raw and honest on the record, delivered with an ambling gait
that gives it a traditional western feel.
Patershuk reserves his deeper darkness for the fictional parts of the
record, such as “Harviestown” in which the narrator plans to exact vigilante
justice on a ne’er-do-well who murdered a loved one. The additional tragedy of the
story is caught in Patershuk’s complex portrait of his character. Not a
murderer by nature, just a simple man who in his grief can’t see any other way
to get justice:
“Well, I’m goin’ down to Harviestown
To do what must be done
And I’m gonna use my two bare hands
I won’t need that gun.
“Well I try to be a better man
I need his blood here on my hands
I know it’ll take a piece of me
But I must do it if I can.”
Even in his resolution, the “if I can” implies the man is not inclined to
violence, and aware he is not built for suck black acts. It gives the song a
human touch and ending with those lines, an uncertain outcome.
The album is replete with standout narratives like this, including a
wonderful song about a World War Two veteran who finds solace from the memories
of conflict in music on “Little Guitar.” “Pep the Cat Murdering Dog”
is a lighthearted semi-factual account of a dog sentenced to life in prison in
1924 by a warden for purportedly murdering the cat of the warden’s wife.
The album ends with “Tennessee Walker” a love letter to a horse.
The song has a jump in the rhythm that made me want to line dance or two-step
or any of those other western dances I can’t do that look like a lot of fun. The
song also features a tip of the hat to Steve Earle’s “Copperhead Road,
with Earle’s big black Dodge lines converted back to original horsepower:
“Well I still remember that rumblin’ sound
All four feet coming off the ground.”
And a couple well-placed shouts of “hep!” shouts a la Earle for
good measure. Halfway through the song when Ana Egge’s vocals come in with some
call-and-answer action, the song is elevated from pleasant memory to pure joy.
Ultimately “Tennessee Walker” is another memory of sister Clare;
this time of her favourite horse. Her memory is laced through the record, and while
her death looms large in Patershuk’s writing, her life looms even larger,
bringing resolve and comfort without ever feeling trite or false. Like I said earlier;
it was just what I needed.
Best tracks: Prettiest
Ones, Smoke a Little Cigarette, Harviestown, I Was So Fond Of You, , Little
Guitar, Pep the Cat Murdering Dog, Tennessee Walker
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