Music Review: Amos Lee — Mission Bell

As a critic, I should be frustrated by Amos Lee’s new album, Mission Bell. For one thing, there’s no high-concept theme to wax eloquent about. Even worse, his finely calibrated folk-soul sound hasn’t materially changed, beyond picking up a few country accents from collaborators like Calexico, Willie Nelson, and Lucinda Williams. So, what’s a writer to blather on about?

As a blogger, however, I have the freedom to be a fan too — and in this case, the fan wins out. I’ve been hooked on Amos Lee ever since his 2005 self-titled debut album, seduced by his mellifluous voice and sensitive lyrics. His next two records, Supply and Demand (2006) and Last Days at the Lodge (2008), only confirmed that trademark sound. There’s a temptation to play the high-and-mighty reviewer and lambast the guy for staying in his comfort zone. But it’s my comfort zone too, and let’s be honest: I’m delighted that Lee hasn’t ditched it for the sake of novelty.

Comfort zone doesn’t mean a limited range, mind you. Mixing the acoustic approach of folk music with the gospel-tinged passion of soul gives an artist plenty of room to operate, especially when his moves are as deft as Amos Lee’s. He can pull out a country waltz on “Windows Rolled Down” and “Clear Blue Eyes,” do some classic Philly call-and-response on “Flower,” shamble through the old-timey softshoe of “Cup of Sorrow,” then go all Stevie Wonder for the soulful tango “Hello Again.” Ever the moving target, he can inject social commentary on songs like “Violin,” “Out of the Cold,” or “Behind Me Now,” explore love and loss on songs like “Stay” and “Learned a Lot,” or raise a heartfelt spiritual cry on “Jesus” or “Cup of Sorrow.”

If anything, Mission Bell just drives deeper into Lee’s characteristic groove. With Calexico’s Joey Burns in the producer’s chair, each track is interpreted with its own sonic texture. Dig, for example, the opening track “El Camino,” which finds local color with splashes of Spanish guitar and mariachi horns, while a susurration of drums creates the sense of highway driving. On track two — yet another driving song, “Windows Rolled Down” — a repeated guitar strum mimics a humming engine, which swells into a triumphant wall of sound as the car windows open for the chorus. A clutter of backing vocals evokes the urban cacophony of “Violin” (for some reason I think of Simon & Garfunkel’s haunting “The Only Living Boy in New York”), while brooding reverb and plangent dobro commiserate with the fallen heroes of “Out of the Cold” and “Behind Me Now.”

Article Author: Holly Hughes

Holly A Hughes has been a rock 'n roll fan since February 9, 1964. She's heard it all, on vinyl, cassettes, 8-track tapes, CDs, and mp3 files. But so long as it's got a good beat, she'll dance to it.

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