Shy but imposing gentle giant RAY LAMONTAGNE has built up quite a reputation as THE authentic, gravelly-voiced Americana crossover torch bearer thanks to the success of his two acclaimed albums, 'Trouble' and 'Till The Sun Turns Black'.
His new born, 'Gossip In The Grain' sounds like it was anything but that cliched 'difficult' third album to make, however, and while it's hardly a stylistic volte face or anything, it's a consistently enjoyable and often inspired affair once again with LaMontagne and his long-term producer/ multi-instrumentalist Ethan Johns displaying their affinity with a variety of roots-related approaches.
This time round, Johns remains in the drum stool and contributes other important sundries, but with Jennifer Condos (bass) and Eric Heywood (guitars and pedal steel) from Ray's touring band also featuring prominently, 'Gossip In The Grain' is much more of a record with a group identity and certainly a more confident outing than the lovely, but resolutely introspective 'Till The Sun Turns Black'. This is a feeling that's quickly cemented by the full-on soul review opener 'You Are The Best Thing' which announces itself in a blaze of positivity and a fanfare of Muscle Shoal-style horns. Not a bad result, bearing in mind Ray and co. decamped to Peter Gabriel's Real World Studios in darkest Wiltshire rather than rural Alabama to record the bulk of the album.
It's not the only time they pull something cranked and charged from the hat, either, as both the blaring harmonicas, scrubbed guitars and rattling drums of the greasy, railroad blues 'Henry Nearly Killed Me (It's A Shame)' and the stompy, almost Beatloid pop of the cheeky 'Meg White' prove. After selling you a dummy with its' brief Spaghetti western intro, this latter is the sound of LaMontagne at his most playful (“I saw you on the screen/ old Jack was keen, but you stole the scene”) and even the devils in the detail (such as Ethan Johns' drumming aping Meg's ruthlessly basic style) are more than enough to make a shit-eating grin spread across your mug.
Nonetheless, it's still when Ray succumbs to his seemingly inbuilt melancholia that 'Gossip In The Grain' really shines. Songs like the windswept 'I Still Care For You' give the band a chance to stretch and for Heywood to show off his ghostly pedal steel prowess, while the graceful, string-kissed sweep of the music on 'Let It Be Me' and the bleak ache of 'A Falling Through' (“there's nothing I can say, nothing I can do/ to bring you back again”) provide the perfect vehicles for Ray's gorgeously grainy, choke-back-the-tears vocal. Elsewhere, his (sorry, but it's true) Dylan-ish phrasing on the delicate 'Sarah' and the song's all too credible rites-of-experience lyrics (“now I see just how young, how scared I was/ throwing punch after punch to the world”) are vivid enough to stay with you for ages afterwards.
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Like all great albums, 'Gossip In The Grain' even finds elbow room for a couple of 'what the fuck?' moments. Superficially, 'Hey Me, Hey Mama' – with its' curious melange of clarinets, trombones and back porch banjos – sounds like its' fresh outta the Smithsonian, but the apparently cheerful air belies the dark lyrical content (“there's murder in the henhouse/ mud flung high upon the wheels”) and a rural portrait of the dirt behind the daydream. It's jarring, but ultimately engaging, though the closing title track is harder to get to grips with. Lyrically cryptic and seemingly ornithologically-obsessed, it's set to a soundtrack of strings and Johns' flowing mellotron and winds down before you've really got a handle on it. At present, it's mystifying, but it's got something. And where Ray LaMontagne is concerned, that's usually enough to suggest regular revisiting will be crucial.
This, then, is another fine album from a beautifully maturing master craftsman in league with some hugely gifted supporting artisans. It's very live sounding and real and for the third time in the row it can only be deemed essential: something which – even in these cynical, disposable days – should be enough to get discerning tongues wagging.
(http://www.raylamontagne.com)
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