Picks From The Pine Tree State

HickoryWind.org’s D.C. bureau has been temporarily relocated to Maine this week while I visit my people. Since I’m supposed to be on vacation, I haven’t prepared any reviews or done much other blog-related work in the past several days. Instead, I’m going to recommend six songs from Maine musicians. All but two of them were born in Vacationland, and all of them were local performers. Most moved away in an effort to secure greater exposure and income (a story I know all too well), but I still consider all of them fellow Mainers. Should you be curious about the music that comes from the land of my people, you can find each of these tracks on iTunes:

“Fire,” David Mallett: The Bangor Daily News selected Sebec native Mallett as one of the most memorable Mainers of the 20th century. One listen to his music and it will be obvious why the newspaper chose him. He’s written dozens of great songs, and his work has been covered by artists such as Pete Seeger, Arlo Guthrie, Kathy Mattea and John Denver. Mallett’s “The Garden Song” has been covered well over 100 times. If you haven’t heard of Mallett, do yourself a favor and check him out. I’d start with “Fire,” a song about his grandfather’s farmhouse burning down that comes form his 1978 self-titled debut.

“Wishbones,” Slaid Cleaves: I’ve turned four our five people on to Slaid Cleaves, a native Mainer (South Berwick) who now resides in Texas. In almost every case this track, which was co-written with Ray Wylie Hubbard, was the one that did the trick. It’s the leadoff and title track from Cleaves’ 2004 disc, and I suspect it’s the chorus that has hooked all of “Spin the bottle cap / Throw a shot back / Everything’s gonna be all right / Spin the bottle cap / Throw a shot back / Cough and cry / Lay down and die.” If it’s not the chorus, then the twangy guitar solo by Gurf Morlix is reeling them in for sure.

“I Coulda Been the King,” Rod Picott: Picott was born in New Hampshire but his family moved to Maine, where he was a high-school classmate and bandmate of Slaid Cleaves. He’s gone on to have a pretty good career as a Nashville-based singer-songwriter. Picott and Cleaves played in The Magic Rats, named in tribute to Bruce Springsteen’s “Jungleland.” In this chugging cut from 2002’s “Stray Dogs,” Picott sings about a guy who looked up to Elvis, and maybe would have seen the bright lights himself if not for a hitch in the service and a couple of kids. He manages to sing it with the urgency of a guy who sounds like he’s still trying to make it big and the contentment of a guy who knows that in the end he got a better deal than Elvis.

“Trapeze,” Patty Griffin: She was born in Old Town, Maine, but like Cleaves she ended up in Texas. Also like Cleaves, the move has been much to her benefit. Griffin has had her work covered by artists with much higher profiles, such as the Dixie Chicks. But I still prefer hearing her sing her own songs. She’s got a beautiful voice that also is capable of great power whether she’s singing a soaring ballad or a down-and-dirty rocker. When she brings it down a notch, she’s capable of breaking your heart with the vocals or the lyrics. On this one, from 2007’s “Children Running Through,” she gets you with both.

“Maria’s Beautiful Mess,” Ellis Paul: Paul was born in Aroostook County, Maine, so large that it’s known simply as “The County.” Basically, he was born way up north. But he went to school in Boston, and became a major player in that city’s folk community. This track, from 2002’s “The Speed of Trees,” shows off his poetic lyrics and his sense of melody.

“Jolene,” Ray Lamontagne: The oft-repeated story goes like this: One morning in my hometown of Lewiston, Maine, Ray Lamontagne awoke to the sound of Stephen Stills’ “Treetop Flyer” on his clock radio. He quit his job at the shoe shop, bought a guitar and started writing songs. Thank you, Stephen Stills. Lamontagne, who for a time in his Maine days went by Raycharles Lamontagne, developed into quite a songwriter himself. This track, from his 2004 album, “Trouble,” is a perfect example. Lamontagne has a frail build but a powerfully haunting voice that sounds like it comes from a larger man. (Van Morrison is a frequent comparison, though they don’t really sound much alike.) The voice paired with Lamontagne’s lyrics form a potent combination: “I found myself face down in the ditch / With booze in my hair, and blood on my lips / A picture of you, holding a picture of me / In the pocket of my blue jeans.” He was born in New Hampshire, but I’ll always proudly claim him as a Mainer.