Sunday, March 15, 2015

Artist: Linda Marie Smith

Artist: Linda Marie Smith
Link: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Linda-Marie-Smith-Band/330763523631

Linda Marie Smith's MEARRA is a concept album based on the legend of the selkie. Selkies are mythological creatures found in Faroese, Icelandic, Irish, and Scottish folklore. As the legend teaches, selkies live as seals in the sea, but shed their skin to become human. This, apparently akin to swan maidens that shape-shift between human and swan forms.

And since selkies make contact with humans for only a short time before returning to their sea homes, the tales invariably end up as romantic tragedies. So too with Smith's MEARRA: Its story arc moves from love to transformation to loss. But whether or not the lore itself fascinates you, you'll no doubt be swept up by the romance (until you're heartbroken by the tragedy). Since we've all seen human romances peter out less-than-epically, there's something to be said for a love that has to end before it dies.
MEARRA is thoughtful song-craft lushly orchestrated by studio-caliber musicians and expertly produced by Rich Rankin; and it's all carried by Smith's clear and rich and compellingly emotive vocal. For me, the album's standout track is "Seals of Silver and Gold." The song is built, musically, on piano and, lyrically, on a litany of romantic depictions of seals, which unfold as a series of questions with a vocal refrain supplying the answer. As in: "What haunts the shore caves all these years? What waits by moonlight yet sings without fear? Seals of silver and gold." The question-answer device is a winning one, made all the more appealing by Smith's lovingly tender voice, cradled by beatific acoustics -- guitar, winds and strings. These mood-defining elements create a perfect moon-lit night for us to be at-peace in.

The effect is not lost on the track that follows, "Surrender to the Sea," which opens with Smith's lone piano that takes its time, haunting the landscape. It moves us to melancholy, until our attention is diverted to more gorgeous music in the distance (hurdy gurdy). An electric guitar cuts in, and snaps us to attention (before sliding away along the fretboard). Then the singing: "I hear them calling / Calling me home." It is the selkie, narrating the first-"person" experience of being drawn back to the sea. For once, I understand. And only Smith's MEARRA could have brought me here.

*** The author of this review, Gregory Carter, plays the acchan chenda for the following band: http://youtu.be/tMS73-1kCr8

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