#wayne watson

[No label] | SHB 1952

Inside the beautifully hand-drawn sleeve of Word of Mouth lives a welcoming collection of gentle folk containing some pretty strong songwriting. Whether strummed or picked, warm acoustic guitars drive most of the material. I hear a Gordon Lightfoot influence in the melody and vocal inflections on the opener "Wonderful," about appreciating simple joys in life (including watching turtles sunbathing on a log). A softly chugging hi-hat moves the tune along, vocal harmonies in the chorus give it just enough depth, and the fretless bass that provides the song's foundation is featured in an unexpected solo during the break (the fretless is also pictured on the back cover). Surprises such as this keep things engaging. While its comparisons between a guitar and a railroad are a little silly, "Neck of My Guitar" (listed as “Tracks” on the rear sleeve) contains a trash solo: what sounds like a washboard, pots, pans, and random pieces of metal are tapped and struck as if they were fine percussion. A lot of folk songwriting is story-oriented, but Birney focuses on free associations on various aspects of our human existence. He lets go of inner turmoil in the lively two-step "I'm Not Worried" and ponders self-improvement in "Better Man." Dreaming is a common theme: a "rainbow-chasing friend" is saluted in "Joseph" and "dreamers in between" addressed in "Neck of My Guitar." Among the dream songs, "Gypsy Wagons" is especially great. It's a hazy meditation on recognizing what's important and finding happiness with a partner. Double tracking is used on the lead vocal and the slide guitar solo, but occasionally, words or notes in one take will not mirror the other and trail off into the weeds, emphasizing the hallucinatory feel of the song. Low-key and hushed, "Out on the Line" is a compassionate ode to Common Folk, specifically an aging blue-collar man who is better than the work he dedicated his life to. He's painted as a forgotten hero in a rat race where laborers are patronized ("come on down for your piece of the pie"). Musically, the song tip-toes, not wanting to make a spectacle of its humble subjects, but the chorus begins with a melodic chant of yah-yahs, sounding an awful lot like a sea shanty or a tune a band of drinkers like to bellow on a festive Friday night. Sung from the perspective of an omniscient ghost, "Nobody's Home" cleverly addresses infidelity, and the LP’s finale "Old Grey Coat" takes this tactic a step further. It starts with motivational advice given to an unknown subject, but clues near the middle suggest that the singer is a spirit, possibly God. The final verse repeats the words at the beginning but in first person, a nifty trick. The ending of the song hangs on the line, "I've got a feeling that this feeling's gonna stay...", also echoed from before. Given the cold environment the song establishes, it's unclear to me if that feeling is one of sadness or optimism. The ambiguity of "Old Grey Coat" is satisfying because its meaning is open to interpretation instead of feeling half-written or overly vague. It invites repeated listens and ends the album strongly, and I bet fans of DIY folk-rock from the '70s would treasure Word of Mouth.