Ray LaMontagne And The Pariah Dogs - God Willin' & The Creek Don't Rise

A warm, soul-baring gem from one of the finest voices out there

Confession: when I first heard Ray LaMontagne, I really didn’t like what I heard. The voice most definitely had something going on, but the song I first heard - Trouble, from his 2004 debut album of the same name - just irritated me. Something about the repetition of it, coupled with a slightly (to my mind anyway) moaning, whiny tone to it just proved an instant turn-off. On the spot, I dismissed him as one does artists they don’t take to, and moved on.

Some years later though, my mind was changed - big time. I’d made a grave error in my snap judgement of the man his work. The album that first turned my head was 2008’s “Gossip In The Grain”. Freed from the hype of being a Hot New Artist (the hype around the man and his debut album was pretty overbearing), this was an album that felt like an artist settling into their groove, having proved their point and now being able to exercise more artistic freedom. It also included the oddly cute tribute to Meg White, which somehow avoids being licentious and instead just comes off a oddly warming. Quite what the notoriously private Meg made of it, we can only speculate, but I don’t think it would have caused offence.

LaMontagne strikes me as an artist who would rather not do the whole limelight thing. Any interviews I have seen with him show him to be a quiet, introspective type, largely reticent to chat about his art, which frankly endears me to him all the more. In an age where artists are expected to be always on, peppering social media with every corner of their lives, there’s something even more appealing (to me anyway) about someone who avoids that entirely and just focuses on their craft.

Equally though, LaMontagne isn’t the kind of artist I feel a need to have that parasocial relationship with. I’m not sure many are if I am honest, but that might simply betray my age here.

By the time LaMontagne’s third album came around though, I’d argue he really deliver a career highlight.

With prior albums definitely focusing on the singer/songwriter angle that might see him in some people’s collections alongside the likes of Damien Rice, God Willin’ kicks off with a much more upbeat, funky number: the brilliant “Repo Man”:

As statements go, it’s a brilliant one. Loose, funky, this shows a side to the artist previously unseen. It works too: if that drumming doesn’t instantly grab you, nothing will.

Anyone expecting an album of uptempo funky cuts is in for disappointment, however. If anything, there’s a misdirection of sorts here, with the mood dropping back to a wry, introspective one on the following track, “New York City’s Killing Me”. Pared back and soulful, this song sees the artist bemoaning NYC and its lack of humanity, with lines like “No one asks how you’re doin’ / Don’t seem to care if you live or die”.

With NYC generally accepted to be one of the cooler cities on the planet by most measures one would care to apply, the contrarian in me just loves the wholescale rejection of the place in this track. What NYC has to offer, it ain’t connecting with Ray, evidently a country man. With doleful slide quietly playing in the background, there’s just something perfect about the tone here.

The title track that follows is where we really see this most gifted of singers deliver the kind of performance that should leave the hairs on your arm standing up. I often say of the greatest singers that they could sing the alphabet and I’d still be wrapt, such is the siren-like qualities going on. Ray LaMontagne is no exception, and on this track he perhaps best demonstrates why that is the case.

This is a voice that is gravelly, distinct. Unlike most, it doesn’t carry the gravitas of, say, Johnny Cash, nor does it have that “gargling razors” tone that the throatier end of rock n’ roll’s best carry. No, this is a voice like whisky: biting, intense, and yet somehow smooth at the same time. It is quite the paradox, and that is what makes it so special.

On the title track then, you hear that quiet power coming through. Ray is no belter: his voice rarely gets projected out with raw power… but when he gets close to it, you know just what kind of a talent you are bearing witness to, and on the chorus here, that is it in full, glorious effect.

Check him out performing the track live in concert. This loses none of its power onstage:

After a brace of slower, more introspective moments, the mood switches back up to something more uplifting. “Beg Steal Or Borrow” always touched me thanks to its lyrics, which rang more than a few familiar bells to me as a guy who grew up in St Albans, a commuter-belt city north of London:

“So the home town’s bringin’ you down,
Are you drownin’ in the small talk an’ the chatter?
Are you gonna step into line like your Daddy done?
Punchin’ the time, and climbing life’s long ladder?”

To anyone who, like myself, dreamed of escaping the corporate office work existence for something brimming with culture, be that music, TV, movies… frankly anything that didn’t 1) involve a suit and 2) involved something you actually gave a shit about, this all rings a deeply familiar theme.

For me, by this point in the album, there’s a kind of modern echo of Neil Young’s Harvest going on here. Sonically this is a more polished affair, lacking that ragged edge of Young’s classic. Nonetheless, there’s still a melodic flourish that brings Harvest to mind, along with that kind of warm touch that just effortlessly uplifts you. When music is at its best and most transcendent, it can reach you on a level very few things get close to, and both LaMontagne and Young refined on their respective albums a means to do that with the most simple instrumentation and brilliant emotive performance. There’s a lot of space in these songs; plenty of room which somehow gives you the listener more means to immerse yourself in it.

“Are We Really Through” is a shining example of that sparse, roomy approach. Essentially an acoustic ballad featuring just LaMontagne and his guitar, you occasionally get those emotive harmonies and the slide guitar just creeping in to elevate the moment. It is truly a wonder to take in.

If one song strays arguably a little too close to Young’s Harvest sound, it must surely be “For The Summer”, with the opening melody instantly evoking “Old Man”. Where one might normally roll their eyes and dismiss a song as a ripoff however, the opening bars are where the similarity ends, and thereafter, LaMontagne delivers what I’d argue is one of the high points of the album. When he delivers the line “ain’t a man alive that likes to be alone” you forgive him everything. The melody switches and uplifts, once again providing that soulful, americana sound that reaches so deep. Slide guitar, harmonica, that voice… how could it not?

The penultimate song on the album again pares things back to a doleful harmonica, guitar and vocal performance. Again, the trick here is that LaMontagne never goes for power; quite the opposite, at points his voice trails off, reflecting an element of despair as he sings “Are you still in love with me, like the way you used to be… or is it changing?”. This is an artist who truly possesses that means to lay it all out there, and that authenticity is undeniable, which I think this why it proves such an emotive listen. I think we all know when an artist really is lay their soul bare, and that’s very much the case here.

Annoyingly, the album closes out with what I’d say is the weakest track; “Devil’s In The Jukebox” is a kind of campfire singalong that in pretty much anyone else’s hands would just sound a little hackneyed. It is almost as if an A&R man at his label RCA demanded some slightly more upbeat ending to this record. This should not have been it.

Let’s not dwell on the one misfire though; up to that point, this is a truly brilliant work that is best enjoyed on a quiet Sunday, in peace, ideally on a system that can really fill the room with the ambience of it all.

Since this album, I’ll confess to disconnecting a little from Ray LaMontagne’s work. His follow-up, Supernova, left me cold, exploring as it did a more rocky, psych-lite kind of sound that felt like a deviation too far. Of course, it is entirely possible that this is a harsh appraisal, and it is quite possible that the artist has since delivered his best work and something to eclipse this magnificent album. If that is the case, let me know in the comments below. I am not greedy though; one amazing album from any artist is more than enough, and for me, this is the one.

Until next time…

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