Ray LaMontagne
Gossip in the Grain
RCA/Victor
By Kevin Hakansson
Born to nomadic parents in Nashua, NH in 1973, and for the better part of the last 15 years a resident of assorted rural towns in Maine, Ray LaMontagne doesn’t exactly fit the profile of rock star. Drifter? Sure. Antique store clerk? OK. Shoe factory worker? Well, that was one of LaMontagne’s previous vocations.
But there was LaMontagne, in 2004, promoting his new album, Trouble. Make that his debut album, a major label entry that sent him from the factory floor to the tour bus, making him the latest mysterious troubadour to satisfy the yearn of music fans looking for an honest, earnest hero. 2006’s Till the Sun Turns Black didn’t quite have the impact that Ray’s debut had, but it did further expand the bearded songwriter’s palette, exploring instrumentation other than his voice and guitar.
Gossip in the Grain expands that palette even further. While the album does boast a few of LaMontagne’s quiet, haunting ballads, Gossip shows our hero in, to say the least, a better mood then on previous albums. It is here we find him playing songs that are sometimes celebratory, sometimes tongue-in-cheek, but always thoughtful.
While Black included a smattering of unique instrumentation, like horns and strings, there was nothing like the songs that greets listeners on Gossip. “You Are The Best Thing” opens with a salutatory horn opening that recurs throughout the tune. LaMontagne croons, utilizing the soulful nature of his rasp, singing “You are the best thing that ever happened to me,” a cheerful sentiment that might catch loyal listeners for a loop.
“Best Thing” is different for sure, and those who’ve enjoyed previous Ray albums might not be sure how to feel about such a radically different tune. Don’t worry, kids: LaMontagne hasn’t gone completely Motown on you. There’s still plenty here that’s quite reliant on guitar and voice. “Let It Be Me” is, like “Best Thing,“ quite soulful, but it’s more in LaMontagne’s wheelhouse; slow, sparse, and emotional. Similarly, “Winter Birds” is a quaint, light tune, with Ray singing over a nearly inaudibly quiet acoustic guitar.
LaMontagne certainly breaks the mold again, though. The middle of the record features “Meg White,” the song from Gossip that seems to be getting the most attention. The tune is an ode to the White Stripes’ female drummer of the same name, and opens with LaMontagne professing “Meg White, You’re alright. In fact, I think you’re pretty swell. Can’t you tell?” The song persists with lyrics in this vain, later claiming that White is “the bomb.” To be honest, the song is pretty hokey, but what’s significant is how unfathomable it is that such a silly, fun song could come from such a mysterious, private artist.
The envelope continues to be pushed after “Meg White” with “Hey Me, Hey Mama” and “Henry Nearly Killed Me (It’s A Shame),” both of which sound like they were written on a back porch somewhere south of the Mason-Dixon line. On “It’s a Shame,” LaMontagne employs the use of a harmonica and basic, yet relentless, percussion to give this what might best be described as a rural feel.
LaMontange returns to his roots to give listeners the record’s finest moment, though. “A Falling Through” is true Ray, a classically raw, tear-jerking lament. The lyrics would indicate that this is your standard “woe is me” type song, but the beautiful chorus by LaMontange and guest vocalist Leona Naess make this one decidedly atypical.
The title track closes the album, and once again, gives us LaMontagne and his guitar leading the way, with the help of some somber backing strings. It seems a fairly appropriate cap to the album; the song includes some interesting instrumentation and backing vocals, but LaMontagne remains the focus. It lets listeners know, yes, that Ray and company are opening things up a bit, but the Mainer they’ve come to know these last few years hasn’t gone away.
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