BeatRoute Magazine Alberta print e-edition - November 2016

JAMES VINCENT MCMORROW
on moving to a new sound by Cole Parker
ORIT
SHIMONI
soft like snow… beautiful, delicate and deadly
by B.Simm
James Vincent McMorrow fights
“diminishing returns” with help
from OVO collaborators
photo: Suzy King
James Vincent McMorrow is an artist whose
career has been defined by changes to his sound.
His 2010 debut Early in the Morning was almost
entirely made up of soft acoustic arrangements,
with his guitar playing front and centre. Next came
2014’s Post Tropical, a notable departure away from
his indie-folk sounds to lush soundscapes of dreamy
reverb and cathartically melancholic arrangements. It
was a conscious decision McMorrow made towards
becoming the artist he wanted to be. Now in 2016,
We Move, his first number one album in his home
country of Ireland, is another missing link for the
ever-evolving artist.
Gone are the building crescendos, the choral-like
background vocals and the wistful nature. Instead
on We Move, he opts for a funkier, more R&B-tinged
sound with a return of some more tasteful guitar and
hip-hop influenced beats. McMorrow is definitive
though in his approach to the different stages of his
career. “I feel like evolution is necessary.”
While the move from his debut to his sophomore
was purely stylistic, We Move is a shift in
the songwriting process as well. It’s led to some of
McMorrow’s most immediate and ear-grabbing
tracks to date. That change is courtesy of OVO family
members Nineteen85 and Frankie Dukes, who have
songwriting and production credits on a handful of
We Move’s tracklist. This created a much different
atmosphere for McMorrow, and it was one he actively
sought out. “The goal was to bring in people that
could do things that I just can’t do myself and people
whose minds I could tap into.” Historically an artist
that would take his time alone in the studio, McMorrow’s
collaborators forced him to have material ready
for their focused gazes.
As with any artist whose sound grows and
expands the way McMorrow’s does, he’s lost some
fans along the way. “They really want you to stay
the same, because they want to enjoy those things
(you used to do). The reality is if I were to keep
mining those things, it would be the law of diminishing
returns. Everything I do would be a lesser
thing than the thing I did before.” For McMorrow,
who’s constantly looking to hone his craft, you
get the impression that stagnation would be
unacceptable.
For an artist who is so devoted to his craft, it’s kind
of unfortunate that to date the highest he’s reached
in terms of mainstream acceptance is a cover version
of Steve Winwood’s “Higher Love.” He’s glad it came
from an organic place, recorded for a charity album
with all proceeds of the single going towards that
charity, rather than from some attention-seeking
stunt. He’s definitely distanced himself from any kind
of ‘cover artist’ title however, with “Higher Love”
being the only cover he performs live, simply for its
emotional connection. “My mother used to play it all
the time growing up.”
The live show will also be a different experience
for fans of the singer-songwriter. On his previous
trip to Calgary, McMorrow performed an extremely
stripped-back acoustic set with no one else onstage
at Knox United Church. The intimate atmosphere,
stained glass-windows and rows of pews seemed to
fit the angelic tones of McMorrow’s Post-Tropical
Tour. The fuller sound of We Move however comes
with a fuller live show with his band coming to
perform at the Jack Singer Concert Hall. A few solo
sections are promised for the more subdued selections
of McMorrow’s setlist.
James Vincent McMorrow plays the Park Theatre in
Winnipeg on November 19th, the Winspear Centre in
Edmonton on November 21st, the Jack Singer Concert
Hall in Calgary on November 22nd, the Commodore
Ballroom in Vancouver on November 24th and the Alix
Goolden Hall in Victoria on November 25th.
While playing her acoustic guitar and
softly singing, “Will there be a gentle
and comforting hand reach down from
above? Will there be, will there be love?” you can
hear the faint, but distinguishable sound of a chair
creaking, presumably the one that Orit Shimoni
is sitting on while recording. Because the way
in which it creaks, you imagine it’s a wooden or
wicker chair that sits on an Indian wool rug in the
middle of a fantastic old parlour or living room
with the original Victorian brass light fixture still
hanging overhead.
In fact, you can’t imagine how this new collection
of songs was recorded except in some kind
of aged but inviting setting, far removed from the
sterility of the nuevo studio. The musical intimacy
extends beyond the chair: you can hear the scratch
and zing of her fingers as they move along the
guitar strings, the breath and breaking of her voice,
the piano keys hitting the felts as the notes ring
out, and the graze of brushes as they circle on the
snare skin. Your skull gets right inside the sounds
as they were recorded.
Despite its rich, enchanting quality, Shimoni
feels, “There is nothing cool about this album,
nothing to tap your feet to.” Intended to it be
“incredibly vulnerable,” she says, “it leaves no
production room to drown out the content, and
the content is intense. It takes one to emotional
places one might not want to go. There is a lot of
pain in this album.”
There’s pain, there’s also redemption in its
honesty. In the overflowing country-gospel, “Wine
Into Water,” Shimoni acknowledges it would take
a miracle to turn someone’s life around, but if she
could, she would.
“I made a man walk out of a bar crying with
that one,” says Shimoni. “Who wants to hear that
song when they’re out trying to have a good time?
Considering the music industry and the drinking
industry are practically one and the same, it’s
practically suicide to put it out there. But you
know and I know damn well, that there are a hell
of a lot of people out there who are going to relate
to that song.”
Indeed there are. As a comforting testament,
Shimino adds, “The bar still hired me back!”
But there’s nothing very comforting in the
religious and political denunciation that screams
out in the anti-war song “Fool”. The most complex,
gripping, heart-wrenching and ball-busting track
on the album, Shimino doesn’t take sides nor
does she mince words, there’s only one tragic
outcome: we’re “fools to think it’s worth the blood
of children.”
Noting, “There aren’t a lot of anguished war
songs in the Canadiana genre,” she says, “That
song calls everybody stupid, the mongers and the
bleeding hearts. Wait ‘til you see the video. It is not
uplifting.”
Entitled Soft Like Snow, the album is stark but bold,
full of tangled emotion and uncompromising sentiment.
It’s a gutsy endeavour, entirely unreserved.
“Yeah, for sure,” confirms Shimino. “When you
say the album is gutsy, and you mean production
wise because of how stripped back it is, we wanted
to say, ‘Here is what this woman sounds like
when she’s in a room, with a squeaky chair, with
fingernails, with a broken voice, and a tired but
still-trying soul. We’re not going to mask any of the
ugliness. It is what it is, and we think it’s beautiful
because it’s true.’
“And it’s soft like snow. Beautiful, delicate and
deadly if you stay out in it too long. It’s a piece to
investigate, then put away, take it out again, and
hopefully fall in love with. It can be an open relationship.
Music’s real understanding that way.”
Orit Shimoni’s CD release party is on Friday, Nov. 25
at the 628 Stage and Lounge located in Calgary at
628 - 8 Ave. SW. Doors at 8 p.m.
46 | NOVEMBER 2016 • BEATROUTE ROOTS