Having honed his craft as a bluesman for nigh on twenty years now, guitarist/vocalist/songwriter and recording artist Charlie Parr dilutes the passion of work ever so slightly with Little Sun, his second effort on the Smithsonian Folkways label.
The eight tracks produced by Tucker Martine (Sufjan Stevens, The Decemberists, My Morning Jacket) in Portland, OR include some music that, while it is legitimately based on a formidable tradition, nonetheless doesn’t sound quite so personal or powerful as the best Parr performs elsewhere here (or on the pinnacles of his past like his eponymous album of 2019)
In a demonstration of compromise, the opener of this roughly forty minutes recalls no one so much as The Band. The loping gait of “Portland Avenue” recalls that iconic quintet navigated by its late, great drummer Levon Helm, as does the subliminal heartache in Charlie Parr’s voice, akin to Rick Danko and Richard Manuel’s.
And that’s not to mention how the organ lines played by Asher Fulero, eerily echoing Garth Hudson’s, lurk around the edges of the arrangement. The following title track is more of the same: hearkening to Dylan’s one-time backup band is not by definition a faux pas, but the otherwise tasteful musicianship on this cut rings hollow and thus sounds imitative, a shortfall exacerbated by how the instrumental ensemble plods a bit.
Fortunately, the moody likes of “Bear Head Lake,” call to mind Charlie Parr at his most scintillating on 2017’s Dog. As he mesmerizes with his circular guitar figures, he enchants with a story radiating Zen-like tranquility as he narrates the story. Quiet in the most intimate way–much like the reverie of comparable length called “Pale Fire”–this ostensible dream sequence is not only a compelling listen on its own terms, but an ideal setup for the sprightly square dance of “Boombox.”
“Ten Watt” occupies something of a middle ground between the derivative cuts on Little Sun and the more personal stylized content here such as “Stray.” With acoustic fingerpicking generating an outline into which Marisa Anderson places her gentle electric guitar, the latter cut is a natural extension of Parr’s solo work and as such, it’s one of the highlights of the record.
Wry in the most self-deprecating fashion, “Sloth” also reminds of Parr’s previous outing Last of the Better Days Ahead, a less overt courting of a mainstream audience than appears in the early going here. The basis of Charlie Parr’s charm has always been his idiosyncratic means of expression, typified on Little Sun by its cover art, the artist’s extensive liner notes as well as the inclusion of song lyrics.
Most importantly though, this native Minnesotan’s unusual charisma permeates more rather than less of the music accompanying that ancillary content.
