Normally, I hate taking money out of musicians’ pockets, so I will refuse a promo if there is a digital download available. That little amount (the cost of the CD and postage) multiplied many times is a hit in the pocketbook, especially in this day and age. But I made an exception for Dave McGraw & Mandy Fer’s new album, Maritime. I downloaded it, sure enough, but after hearing it I wanted the physical product. I wanted to have it car-ready for spur of the moment trips. I wanted to punch a button rather than click a mouse to change tracks. Hell, if it came on vinyl, I would have asked for that. Or sold something so I could buy it. If it was available.
But alas, at this time it is not, which is a damn shame because there is something about this album which returns me to the age of vinyl. The folk rock feel here and there. The minor chords and odd time changes. The steps into the ethereal. The lyrical attention to detail. And the voices…
McGraw has a texture to his voice which can be mesmerizing— a not smooth but not rough texture reminiscent of James Taylor— and he uses it well. Add his ability to mix the worldly and intangible and the music becomes the musician. The man has the touch.
Fer (pronounced “fair,” by the way, short for Ferrarini) is no slouch herself. Her songs are as simple and as complicated as are McGraw’s and her smooth voice, which slides between alto and tenor depending upon song, a perfect point and counterpoint to that of McGraw. The harmonies they present would cannot be easy to pull off as a matter of course, the voices twisting and diving and wrapping themselves around each other seemingly at will, but come off as if they were born to it. Fer provides that which truly drives the music through the peaks and valleys, that being electric guitar of the simplest and yet complicated nature. She can take you into the depths for seconds at a time a la Dave Gilmour’s whale-like sustains or just lay you back and let you ride along a la Fotheringay’s Jerry Donahue, both guitarists whose styles are as impressive for what they do not play as what they do. It is called taste and I am in awe every time I hear it. I am not saying Fer is technically doing what they might have done here, but she is damn close, the notes quiet and flowing at one point and on a string-bending run the next. Not many fingerpick the electric, my friends, but Fer does and she does it with class.
As I always do, I seem to find something I would change about the albums I review— even the best of them, of which this is one. After hearing the songs numerous times, I have been particularly drawn to a song titled “Silence,” co-written by McGraw and Fer. It gripped me the first time I heard it, the refrain of “I can’t stand the silence” repeating in my head after every listen. It is the core, for me, of what this album is. Because after hearing this, I can’t stand the silence either. But they didn’t ask me. So Maritime this shall remain. And I am sure they have their reasons.
I could not end this without mentioning the work of the others on this album also. Jerome Holloway, even, who stepped in for harmony vocals on the opening track, “Helicopter.” His voice takes the song to the brink of jazz, the harmonies striking a minor chord beauty you hear all too seldom these days. The others, also used sparingly, include Andrew Lauher (drums), Christopher Merrill (electric bass), Sasha van Dassow (cello), and Mike Grigoni (lap steel). Each brings a real musical sense to each song on which they play. Their names are names I shall be looking for in the future. Deservedly so.
McGraw and Fer live in the San Juan Islands of the great Pac Northwest. I passed by on a ferry ride to Victoria BC this past summer. It was more than beautiful. It was mind-boggling. The music of Maritime belongs there. Like the warm summer breeze on a beautiful, beautiful day.