[rating=7.00]
Upon first listen to Sam Amidon, you may feel transported to a sepia-tinged past. There’s always been something really old world about his composition and singing style, and since last year’s gorgeous Bright Sunny South, he’s truly honed this sound even more. On his new record, Lily-O, he collaborates with the legendary guitar player Bill Frisell to “reimagine” a series of old folk songs through his unique and fresh perspective.
Lily-O is a pretty record, and it has its majestic, mounting moments, but overall it’s a quiet release that too often feels a bit lukewarm. However, when it comes to the soft-spoken Amidon, it’s unclear whether or not this was his intention. His voice is organically dreamy, yet he’s so focused on maintaining an earthly sound that it rarely builds to its full potential. Instead, he remains at that middle register, keeping it more reigned in than he needs to.
On the title track, “Lily-O”, a nearly 9-minute classic folk song of richly varied instrumentals, Amidon’s voice remains a constant thread weaving it all together, from the still and quiet beginning to the more menacing addition of Frisell’s electric guitar, and later the manic clash of percussion. It might have been more of a treat to hear his vocals hit these highs, too, but instead, they distract as though you’ve accidentally started playing two songs at once. Similarly, “Walkin’ Boss” features exciting, thumping banjo and percussion, and Amidon’s placid howl winding through.
With Amidon, it’s all in the details, and on Lily-O, the best details are the little imperfections in his voice that crop up unexpectedly. He often just lets his notes go in an uninhibited way, and it’s then that you can hear the rawness you’ve been waiting for out of him. That especially works wonders when it occurs on this record, as the overall tone is gloomy and ominous, with eerie tales of rural life steeped in tradition. These are noir-folk songs, telling stories of murder and betrayal.
“Down the Line” with its powerful beginning and otherworldly electric guitar contrasts a manic, cacophonous instrumental arrangement with Amidon’s voice—in this case a moan, so drenched in pain, you’re hurting along with him. This is one of the strongest moments of Lily-O because it plays up the truly offbeat collaboration with Frisell, both of them showcasing vastly different talents, but still jiving well together.
One of Lily-O’s dreamiest moments is the ballad “Devotion”, a meandering, floating stream of a song that’s equal parts heartbreaking and soothing. Though Amidon’s Appalachian folk influences are sometimes so prominently referenced, for certain tunes it works perfectly.
Without Frisell, Lily-O would be an entirely different record. It would lack intrigue and danger that Frisell’s spacey guitar playing brings to the table. Amidon often sounds so earthly, that hearing him alongside Frisell’s weirdness is almost jarring. But thanks to this, we are treated to a dreamier soundscape than we could have imagined.
