April 12–19, 2001
critic pick| folk/world
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It’s a day shy of April, and singer-songwriter Bill Morrissey is snowed in at his New Hampshire home. The image evoked — a solitary soul held captive by a winter that won’t let go — sounds like something that could work its way into a future Morrissey tune. After all, the guy’s made a living out of writing musical vignettes about folks worn out and held captive by their own, often-faded dreams. Morrissey — whose career has included working on a fishing boat, flipping burgers and pumping gas — got his big break playing at the 1985 Newport Folk Festival. But it wasn’t until his third album, 1989’s marriage-in-decline masterpiece Standing Eight (Philo), that people really took note of his gravelly voice and haunting folk-blues. That record, with its sophisticated writing and sparse arrangements, packed an emotional wallop and moved Morrissey to the folk forefront in his native New England.
"It took a while for things to get going but it’s been an interesting ride ever since," Morrissey says. In 1996, he wrote a well-received novel, Edson; in 1999, he nabbed a Grammy nomination for his subtle, charming Songs of Mississippi John Hurt. Currently finishing up his second book, Imaginary Runner, Morrissey’s new album, Something I Saw or Thought I Saw, is his first collection of original material in five years. And like Standing Eight, the songs on the new record capture a life in transition.
"I’ve gone through another divorce, but I don’t consider this one a ‘divorce’ record like the other," he says. "It’s more about learning to roll with the punches; figuring out how friendships and relationships work… and why they sometimes don’t."
With his keen eye for detail and tersely sketched characters, the songs on Something I Saw strike a clean balance between economy and vividness. And as with all of Morrissey’s works, it’s clear that his focus remains squarely on songwriting. "It’s the writing that gets me out of bed in the morning."
Touring solo, he says, isn’t as much fun as being with a band but it affords him a certain freedom. "The great thing is that you can change things on the spot. You can go with the moment a little more."
With Kris Delmhurst, Sat., April 14, 7 p.m., $15, at the Tin Angel, 20 S. Second St., 215- 928-0770, www.tinangel.com.
