Influenced in childhood by her father's Neil Young and Bob Dylan records, and by the more contemporary likes of Jason Molina (Magnolia Electric Company), the plain speaking poetess Samantha Crain is starting to gain some real traction as a singer songwriter of substance.
“This album is definitely social on many levels,” Crain has explained. “Much of it is about the plight of the working class woman. We are multi-dimensional individuals, not silly emotional creatures who depend on men. And it baffles me that I feel the need to bring this to light in 2015 but I feel strongly that the truth of that message is still hushed.”
Despite her protestations,we should be grateful that she does not deny her natural inclination to write stories about people and the everyday (and not just women), peppered with socio-political comment, and a fighting spirit that befits this native American, and an Oklahoman to boot, home to legendary man-of-the-people and Great Depression songwriter Woody Guthrie, a music and social activist forefather.
Armed with an acoustic guitar, and with a sparse backing band that features bass, drums and keys, the album benefits tremendously from the production work of John Vanderslice, Crain having decided to record the album live, as analogue, directly onto 2" tape. The result is a warm and lively feel, fuelled by some complimentary use of effects and looping, adding a little hauntingly country-psyche flavour here and there. The overall effect is heard on opening track Killer, beginning with just drums and bass. 'I won't follow anymore, my feet, my heart, my head are too sore/ wherever they are, there I will be looking… they say the worst is over, the low is reached/But it's such a long road, keep marching," sings Crain as the tape wobbles, the live studio effects superficially at odds with the opening manifesto of defiance of Crain: 'Here, I'm singing a song/Killer of souls, killer of rights, you are wrong/You made strangers in our very own homes'.
Elsewhere though, Crain mostly prefers to tell the stories of individuals, rather than write potentially over-reaching 'protest' songs, her reasoning being that people can usually relate to these stories better than shouting or pontificating from the rooftops. Crain's voice lends itself to such communication; it's slightly jazzy, and packed with emotional nuances, veering towards the melancholy and world-weary, but nevertheless fighting and spirited, as on Kathleen, a song that recalls the gently rhythmic and harmony-rich UK acoustica of Turin Brakes, as Crain sings of an uncomplicated female friendship.
Kathleen returns in name for the next song, Elk City, an album highlight, helped immeasurably by the string work of the Magik*Magik Orchestra, who embellish what is a straightforward finger-picked song into something beguiling and beautiful, much in the same way Harry Robinson's string arrangements helped turn Nick Drake's Riverman from a very good song, into a great one. It also compliments the story narrative, about the fate of a working class woman left behind, but always dreaming of leaving the next day…
You or Mystery is also a captivating story narrative, the sombre slide work and doctored effects imbuing this melancholy yet biting song about a neighbour, unseen and unknown for the most part, who dies suddenly aged 35, seemingly a victim of any number of social ills. While the country stylings of WhenYouComeBack also features vocals from the Dodos’ Meric Long on this song of broken promises and broken hearts.
At odds with the generally melancholy tone of the rest of the album is the exuberant Big Rock, at heart a country-rocker, but which is neatly juxtaposed with the sentiments of Crain, about making a home even though she's all alone, with everything falling apart around her, including her car, but that it's all alright.
Somewhat of an anti-climax after the 'fun' of Big Rock, the final three offerings don't add anything much although on final track Moving Day, Crain sings her heart out, resigned emotions to the fore, depicting the scene where a couple are packing up, and going their separate ways. It's grand, yet fragile, the band and string players as usual providing the space and unfussy textures that allow for Crain's gripping narrative.
With this album moving away from the personal to the observational, the largely character studies and stories that make up the album display strong earthy emotions throughout; from defiance to sorrow, to wistful and cheery. Crain's mix of heartbreak songs, protest songs, and songs for the ordinarily dispossessed, exploited and neglected, are empathetic, crafted with the utmost care, and full of striking imagery, that help to bring them further to life. And she can sing beautifully.
Jeff Hemmings