Like most all country-blues artists, Ray Bonneville doesn’t try to knock your socks off so much as fit you into a comfortable old pair of shoes. But the Canadian native separates himself from singer-songwriter cliches with a slow but steady revelation of his myriad talents. His (mostly electrical) guitar and harmonica work is economical and wise, abetting vocals reminiscent of JJ Cale for their fine-sandpaper tone and conversational aplomb. What cinches these gifts together, and makes Bonneville such a durably consistent pleasure, is his assured yet humble songwriting.
I’ve only heard two of the man’s six discs, the ones for Red House, Roll it down from 2004 and this year’s Goin’ by feel. Both are unusually user-friendly, the kind of soundtrack that’s jaunty enough to help you cook breakfast or fold the laundry, sufficiently easygoing to climb into the back seat of your brain when other priorities or daydreams emerge, and yet insightful and incisive enough to reward careful listening without a lyric sheet. On each disc, the songs go together, not so much by topic, but, as the second record puts, "by feel." They’re generally plainspoken narratives sewn with the classic instrumental braid of country blues, yet enough care has been invested in the craft to yield different shadings, meanings, and resonant riffs with every new spin.
Let’s get specific. I love the way Bonneville will occasional tumble for the sheer phonics and punning of songwriting, like the way "Tiptoe Spider" (from Roll it down) is so tiptoe-spidery in its clamber-prancing guitar lines, with the added bonus that the antagonist in the narrative is a fairly creepy character. Or, from the new one, "What Katy Did," which has a birdlike flit–the vocal hopping on the hard vowels while the guitar and bass worry the groove–but also is a case study in trust and intimacy (would you tell a secret?) masquerading as a tale of crime.
I also love the quality of the marriage between the lyrics and the music. On "Walk With Me" (from Roll it down), for example, the sentiment is one of muted infatuation, a guy tamping down his ecstasy to both keep feigning coolness and to protect his vulnerable heart, perfectly expressed not only in the vocal inflections but the gentle spangles in the blues guitar phrases and the extra dollop of elbow grease in the beats. Most of the time, however, Bonneville dawdles for effect. The wistful slide guitar on "Oxford Town" (Roll it down) is perfectly paced for reverie, and even the New Orleans groove of "You Know What I Mean" (Roll it down) stays with you because it feels like its done at 3/4 speed.
Goin’ by feel is more spare and New Orleans-centric than Roll it down, and after thinking it didn’t measure up, it’s begun to suck me in. There are obvious tracks like the postcard/valentine "I Am The Big Easy," with its picaresque recitation of dice-rollin’ judges and crawfish boys, and the sleek, cantering rhythm of "Run Josie Run." But lately I’m more taken with the wending "Sabine River," the way it manages to sound simultaneously epic and self-effacing; the taunting edge in the talk-song of "Reckless Feeling;" and the way "Cool Cool Rain" closes the disc with such a palpable sense of relief. They’re all like watercolors–not fancy oils, yet something you don’t mind encountering as part of your regular routine. And I imagine tonight’s (3/21) live show at the Cedar will deepen and expand those impressions.
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