Published on Jun 3, 2005
As anyone who reads these pages regularly knows by now, I am not
a Bob Dylan fan. The man is a great writer, yes — he stands tall
as one of the true artists among 20th century lyricists. But I have
never, ever been able to gain any real appreciation for either that
mumbly rasp of a voice or the distant, elusive persona behind
it.
Which probably horrifies Fergus McCormick no end, but c’est la
vie.
McCormick, a globe-trotting sometime expatriate now settled back
in New York, is a singer-songwriter whose genre of choice is
Dylanesque Americana (or roots-rock if you like, or country-blues
that occasionally borrows from early rock and roll, if you want to
bring it to a fine point). It’s not a choice often made these days,
but it fits McCormick’s evocative, emotionally rich narratives and
gentle, lived-in voice like a glove.
McCormick’s subjects are a vivid tapestry of partings, longings,
seductions and rejections that render in rich, earthy tones the
self-inflicted pains and superlative joys of a true romantic. The
opening title track sets the tone right away, a gentle parting shot
to a needy lover, sung in weary, hushed, Claptonesque tones over a
dreamy electric shuffle. McCormick’s keening, wordless cries over
the swaying outro create an coda that’s both wistful and
winning.
The remainder of this fine disc finds McCormick illustrating his
flawed characters’ longings through one sharply-rendered musical
setting after another. He uses country-rock rhythms and warm folk
voicings to tell the story of a devastating crush on “My Heart,
Hold On To Me,” gives a slow country blues a wonderfully restrained
intensity on “I Saw Her On Monday,” and tosses off a fun piece of
classicist rock and roll — complete with trashcan drums, Jerry Lee
Lewis piano and trembly Chris Isaak guitars – on “Four Leaf
Clover.”
“Clover” also finds McCormick engaging in vocal and musical
Knopflerisms that reminded me of moments from both the giddy
“Twisting By The Pool” and the weary “Brothers In Arms” (Dire
Straights, people, we’re talking Dire Straights here). Except,
McCormick is a better singer already than Mark Knopfler ever has
been, investing his vocals with real intensity and subtlety.
Another highlight is the sweet, loping, almost scatted seduction
piece McCormick tosses off with casual precision on “Won’t You Take
It From Me.” Here Andy Burton’s Hammond organ takes more of a lead
role, with Matt Wilcox’s electric guitar embellishing the melody
rather than leading it. Equally appealing is the very pretty (and
timely) closing ballad “Is It Over?”
I love irony, but the lack of any in these tunes only reinforces
the potency of the narratives and McCormick’s steadfastly sincere
delivery of them. Songs this well-crafted don’t need to be
embellished with winks, nods or punchlines. Fergus McCormick is the
opposite of flashy — a gentle, sincere storyteller who mixes
romanticism with directness to forge his own uniquely appealing
style.
Jumping The Gun is a worthwhile purchase for anyone who
enjoys a good song, and a songwriter who isn’t afraid to wear his
heart on his sleeve.