When the poet, folk singer, and talented guitarist first hit the scene several years ago, he was inevitably compared to that other blues-based folk singer from Duluth Minnesota but as Parr’s career developed into a career now spanning 13 albums, the only comparisons lie mostly in geographical proximity. Parr has always been by far the better guitarist and his approach is much different.
Reference points could include the folk guitarists such as John Fahey, Kelly Joe Phelps, and Leo Kottke, but again, Parr offers so much more in terms of his poetry, his detailed observations, and character sketches. All these skills are on fine display in Parr’s debut, Last of the Better Days Ahead, for Smithsonian Folkways, and imprint that chooses most carefully. This is a collection of powerful new songs about how one looks back over a life lived and contemplates what is to come, rendered in his signature sparse production style that allows the nuances of his gritty, expressive voice, and a guitar picking that inventively marries folk and blues motifs. It was co-produced with Brad Cook (Bon Iver, Waxahatchee, Kevin Morby).
The last sentence in Parr’s description of the album is a ‘must share,’ – “The album represents one full rotation of the boat in which we are adrift—looking ahead for a last look at the better days to come, then being turned around to see the leading edge of the past as it fades into the foggy dreamscape of our real and imagined histories.” Yes, Parr is a deep cat. Take the opening line from the opening title track – “Money can’t buy back that ’64 Falcon that you sold…” He goes on to pose questions about not knowing its worth, but why such a clinging memory remains – “tell me just what it was you lost.” From that rambling up tempo existentialism, Parr moves into a more contemplative, rumination that brings this quote above on the boat analogy into full focus as he hears the voice of his father and other memories of his childhood in “Blues for Whitefish Lake, 1975.”
.The ringing strings from Parr‘s own National steel, banjo, and 12-string playing create a joyful noise that can by turns just as quickly turn dark, as on the previous, or enlivened by spirited blues playing on “Walking Back from Willmar” where he describes Tony as a “security officer down by the trailer yard” searching for figures or anything in sight “lit by a neon cross.” This upbeat vibe continues into “Anaconda” but quickly turns haunting and ethereal in the epic standout “Everyday Opus” where he sings in vivid details about walking to work, noting the details of the sidewalk, each sound he hears, as you follow along with him – “now I’m on the highway overpass waiting for the bus,” cleverly interspersing some philosophy as he goes. Meantime his impeccable guitar playing becomes rather hypnotic, allowing the listener to not only hear but to hang on each word from his masterful storytelling, much of which is drawn from his work in homelessness outreach.
In “On Fading Away” he resumes in bluesy style, picturing himself floating down the Mississippi to the Gulf. “817 Oakland Avenue” recalls joyous memories to the extent, he is urging that that same joy and empathy be spread around. “On Listening to Robert Johnson” is a raw, slow-paced reminiscence on why he first fell in love with the blues featuring perhaps his most expressive vocal on the album. “Bed of Wasps” and “Rain” are the kind of talking blues tunes that only Parr could deliver, the latter as if drawn directly from a dream, building drama as he did on “Everyday Opus” and delivering remarkable guitar picking in the outro. That same picking goes full bore in the almost 16-minute instrumental closer, “Decoration Day,” as Parr casts an immersive, enveloping hypnotic spell, enlivened mid-piece before dissolving back into its earlier lingering reverberating tones with percussion and wind-like sound effects added.
This is brilliant work throughout and a worthy addition to Parr’s storied catalog. If this is your introduction, it’s a fine place to start.
