Michael Snow, Never Say No to a Jar (Irish Eye, 2003) |
"Never say no to a jar" sounds like great words of wisdom to me, or even a philosophy or way of life. It's also the title of Michael Snow's final installment of the Skelly trilogy, an exploration of music inspired by his Liverpool/Irish background. There's a real challenge in reviewing the third recording in a trilogy without having heard the first two. Although I considered tracking them down in order to better understand what the whole message might be, I decided to concentrate on this one to see if it would stand on its own. And I think it does. The first cut pulled me right in. It tells the story of a jovial sailor by the name of Dandy Vernon who spends all his free time in pubs and still catches the eye of all the pretty girls. The tune is catchy and the words of the chorus invite you to sing along before the first iteration is over. Behind the words and melody is some marvelous fiddle and button-box accordion accompaniment. But what really puts the listener right into the pub with Dandy is Michael's whiskey tenor voice and wistful brogue, seemingly unaffected by the years he has lived in the States. Snow's energy is best represented in songs like "That Sonic Boom," a song about a first guitar, reflecting the influence of Snow's residence in Nashville with its country/rock sound, or in "A Pub on Every Corner," my personal idea of heaven. However, he does a passable job with sad songs such as "Light That Fire Again," a heartbreaking track about trying to recapture love's initial passion. Snow wrote all but one of the compositions on this CD, and his lyrics and arrangements are more complex than those of most of today's singer-songwriters. "River Remember Me" is a great one -- the melody follows the bittersweet memories of growing up Irish in Liverpool. Snow's style is characterized by modal changes, moving from major to minor and back again. If it were just the poetry, these would be nice songs. But he has also arranged harmonic strains of the wooden flute behind the melody that are melancholic, and then turns around and ends on a hopeful major chord. The same technique appears in the a cappela number, "Old Irish Tunes." One problem with listening to singer-songwriters is that while listening to the melodies, I often find myself saying, "That run or phrase sounds like something else I've heard." After reading through Snow's biography and realizing he grew up under the influence of the Beatles, it all made sense. The influence is there, but it's not copied or plagiarized; it just feels familiar and comfortable. Homesickness is a common theme running through this CD, ending officially with "A Skelly's Farewell." I can only guess that this is the theme of the trilogy as well. Snow even includes a marvelous reading of the poem, "The Dogs in the Street," referring to yet one more aspect of his home that he misses. Having grown up listening to the Clancy Brothers, I'm surprised that more Irish artists don't include at least one poetry reading on the recording, and I'm glad to hear a strong poetic rendition here. And then there's "Black Sheep: Blarney Star," with its delightful, catchy melody. I think it all explains the unique personality of the Irish, they can't stay and they can't go home, and yet they never left. "Peeling the Layers Away" is quite possibly the most depressing song I've ever heard in my life. The music is nothing less than a dirge, and the words paint a picture as desolate as the landscape of Mars. And although "One of Us" is sung to a dreary melody, it makes a strong statement about getting along with each other in this day and age by taking reverse psychology approach. That's not to suggest these are awful songs; they are still compelling and worth a listen. I can't say enough good things about the musicians Snow invited to back him up. Craig Duncan on fiddle and violin, John Mock on tin whistles, uillean pipes and concertina, and Buddy Connolly on button accordion are all positively marvelous. Between melody and harmony, they weave an Irish air around Snow's words that transports you so completely, you'll think you are in a pub in Ireland. Brian Willoughby also contributes some brilliant guitar work in "Cailin Dall" as well. There's a gift at the end: a truly hidden bonus track. Twenty-five seconds after "A Skelly's Farewell" is Snow's No. 1 hit in nine countries, "Rosetta." It's a great way to end the CD, with its bouncy little tune and great story about a feisty woman -- someone after my own heart, as it were -- and sends the listener off with a smile. - Rambles |