Jesse Harris
Feel
Velour Records
By Mike Randall
Ask the majority of common folk on the street who Jesse Harris is and you’ll more than likely be met with a blank stare. Ask that same person who Norah Jones is and you’d probably be willing to bet they could even name you a song of hers. Funny thing is that the song actually belongs to the aforementioned Harris, who whether he likes it or not, will forever be linked to Jones as the author of her breakthrough, “Don’t Know Why.”
Harris’ impressive Grammy-winning body of work stands up just fine on its own, but scanning the list of those who’ve covered his songs (Pat Metheny and Madeline Peyroux, among others) makes one wonder how he’s not a household name. The answer might come in the form of his latest release, Feel: he just might not want to be all that well known. Harris composes the music he wants to without trying to reinvent the formula that brought worldwide fame to Jones and by not trying to hide from that notoriety by going in obscure or avant-garde directions.
His breezy, intimate folk is as consistent as ever on Feel, avoiding hooks yet still letting each track stand on its own through songwriting of the very highest caliber and guitar work that seems to make time feel like it’s slowing down, similar to the styling of Jack Johnson only far more proficient. Each song is meticulously crafted and never feels rushed or forced, and there always seems to be a singular focused subject.
He very much has his own style, yet almost every song reminds the listener of someone else. The title track, with the line “If you know that it isn’t real why pretend that you can feel,” comes across like an excellent Jayhawks tune while “Walk On” is reminiscent of Dave Matthews in both riff and voice. “The Wind” is a standout that sounds like it could have come from the same batch as “Don’t Know Why,” but it’s when he pulls out the banjo that things truly get fascinating; “How Could It Take So Long” sounds like it graduated from the school of Neil Young while “I Would” would make a perfect Sufjan Stevens song.
And so, for lack of a better word, is the trouble with Harris’ music; it’s as if the listener has been trained to hear it coming from someone else. That criticism is meant as a dear compliment, as if to say his songs are so easy to cover because there’s so much to latch onto and they sound a whole lot simpler than they actually are. As he sings in “Where to Start,” “I would have to write a novel just to get out all my thoughts,” he’s going to be making stars out of others, and himself if he so desires, for quite some time.
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