Gregg Hill’s new album Bayou St. John reflects Hill’s avocation as a sculptor as well. Each of these tracks boasts a discernible sonic shape that Hill dictates through their construction and less intangible qualities such as the interior storytelling logic behind its sound. Produced by renowned New Orleans bassist and producer, Roland Guerin. Hill drafts a five-star team of guest collaborators to aid in fleshing out the album’s possibilities such as Doug Belote, Joy Clark, and Lynn Drury. It’s Hill’s songwriting vision, however, and distinctive voice that are the collection’s indisputable center.
FACEBOOK: https://www.facebook.com/gregghillmusic/
“Places in Between” begins the album on a stellar high point. The clarion clear straightforwardness of Hill’s singing does an immense amount of work for his lyrics. It breathes the breath of genuine poetry into his conversational lines elevating them several rungs up the ladder. He tailors them well to the song’s beguiling melody, built around Hill’s acoustic guitar, and the stripped-bare spartan nature of the performance helps him underline its deceptive emotional weight.
Hill’s languid paean to his adopted hometown of New Orleans, appropriately titled “New Orleans Again”, is full of sleepy elegance. It continues building the song from the ground up on the back of Hill’s guitar playing. It isn’t a bad building block. His playing has a steadiness that defines each of Bayou St. John’s songs and Guerin’s production captures Hill’s attention to detail, particularly in songs such as this. “One Minute Song” is a masterpiece of concision. Hill delivers on the promise of the song’s title and even leaves its detail-laden lyrics open to interpretation. It has a feel reminiscent of classic country, ala Hank Williams Sr., without ever sounding imitative.
The glittering instrumental “Magnolia Bridge” is an unexpected gem. Hill leans so much on his talents as a lyricist during the release’s first half, without ever giving his arrangements short shrift, that it’s a bit surprising to hear him turn in a strictly instrumental direction. It’s a colossal success, however, as this pastoral and sunlit musical romp provides a necessary bridge into Bayou St. John’s concluding tracks.
“Big Blue Moon” embraces Hill’s jazzier inclinations. The song has a light step, however, and is more reliant on setting an alluring pace rather than bedazzling us with jazzy vamps. Directness and intimacy play in the performance’s favor; Gregg Hill comes across as if he’s in the room with you. “Pooh Nanny” mixes spoken word with customary singing. It never sounds pretentious, however. There’s a pleasing deliberateness in the way this song develops, and the patience Hill invests into evolving the song pays off with one of Bayou St. John’s most calming musical experiences.
The self-deprecating humor of “Old Like Me” holds up over repeated listens and never gets too nasty for its own good. There is a dollop of reflection underpinning these lyrics, the fact alone that he sees himself as “old” is telling, but it never pushes aside a chance for humor. Gregg Hill’s Bayou St. John isn’t a lengthy affair, but it doesn’t need to be to make a deep impression. These are songs full of verve, observation, and a life fully lived.
Garth Thomas