Ramblin' man

Kevin Connolly comes Around the Bend

by John O'Neill

If anything should be remembered about the music of the '90s, in terms of lasting impact, it may be the emergence of the new breed of singer/songwriter. While metal continued a decade-long masquerade as

hardcore, grunge's novelty wore-off in proportions similar to the rise and fall of the "Macarena," and alternative became a paint-by-numbers industry, the singer/songwriter genre grew from soft-headed, self-indulgent, folk-mush to smarter, more diverse, and quirky music. Embracing and incorporating rock, blues, country, and various world influences, the new generation coupled imaginative, but not maudlin songwriting with a bite that owed as much to '80s roots anomalies like the Blasters and Rave Ups, as it did to Bob Dylan and Richard Thompson. Simply put, it's not your daddy's folk music.

"The New England folk scene is a lot of whimpy white guys with guitars that fit nicely into the coffeehouse thing," says Kevin Connolly. "They're safer songs. I was guilty of that 10 years ago, touchy-feely songs. As I get older I realize more things revolve around me and not inside me. Plus I'm lucky enough to travel around."

A maverick in every sense of the word (no doubt fueled by his less-than-traditional parents who, disgruntled with the climate of Nixon's America, enlisted the Connolly clan in the Peace Corps), Connolly has indeed made tracks during his music career. A Saturday-night tradition at Cambridge's venerable Plough and Star in the early '90s, Connolly has spent the past five years chiefly on the road. There was a year playing in Italy, and the better part of 1995 was spent criss-crossing America in a VW camper with his wife and dog. "We did 160 shows in nine months, it was a blur of images that I think planted the seeds for this [new album]. A lot of the songs were written on the road."

The new album, Around the Bend (Real), is an unblemished gem of Americana that depicts life, love, tourist traps, truck stops, dead-end jobs, smashed dreams, strip malls, small-town frustration, loneliness, and hope. Connolly is able to paint a rich landscape populated with airport-lounge waitresses, tow truck drivers, and cowboys with the wit of a classic storyteller. Yet his rich imagery results in more than just clever tunes; Connolly's music always retains a sense of being intensely personal. It is a mix of soulful, passionate, playful, reflective, and occasionally impressionistic musings that are wholly original. It's also a marked departure from 1995's Small Town, which found Connolly coming to grips with the bittersweet experience of growing up in Marshfield.

"The album is less autobiographical, more quirky, more melodic. I'm trying to learn about it more while remaining true to my rootsy background," says Connolly of the admittedly laborious process. "[Songwriting] is what I'm good at. I'm not a professional guitar player, and I'm not the best singer . . . the lyrics are the most fun."

Highlights from Around the Bend include the brilliant anti-love song duet "Not Crying" (the album's high-water mark that features a lovely vocal turn from Boston legend Robin Lane and a galloping beat straight out of the Buddy Holly songbook) to the Dylan-esque stream of thought that outlines the eccentric "Top of the Hill," and the stark, heart-felt beauty of the closing piece, "Easy To Believe."

Around the Bend stands as an instant masterpiece of Boston music, and should establish Connolly not only as the area's top songwriter (with the possible exception of Dennis Brennan) but as an artist who ultimately should be held in the same high regard as Dave Alvin, Richard Buckner, and John Hiatt. Connolly's strong point is his restraint -- the love songs steer clear of sap, remaining firmly planted in the poignant yearning; and the more exotic numbers never relinquish their tongue-in-cheek slyness, where lesser artists would opt for silliness. Around the Bend is a shit kicker that hoots and hollers down at the roadhouse, then, after last call, spills its guts out to you till the sun comes up.

While the release is Connolly's fourth effort, it's also the first on his own Real Records imprint. Having released three CDs with Medfield-based indie Eastern Front Records (selling a very respectable 10,000-plus CDs total), Connolly decided to get to the next level of the business, he'd need to take a more hands-on approach.

"I just didn't want to sign with another small independent label that would tie me up for three to five years," he explains. "I would have felt differently five years ago, but five years ago distribution was a lot different. The Web is a viable way to sell albums."

Connolly (who plays Gilrein's this Friday, after a label showcase in New York City on Thursday), with a dozen years of performing under his belt, has no illusions about popular success, having had to open for far-lesser-talents like Joan Osborne ("about two weeks before that song was on every fucking station!") and Shawn Colvin. Though he's ready to make the jump to national recognition, Connolly will continue to play the game by his rules as much as possible, and, with a little luck, make adjustments accordingly.

"The big thing for me is to drive myself crazy and just do the best I can. The worst case scenario is I have my own label that I distribute. If something better comes along, I can change direction."

Local Buzz

The Espresso Bar will be looking for a new home due chiefly to the city's commercial tax rate. E-Bar honcho Eric Spencer reports that the tax (based on square footage) has made functioning at the current James Street site impossible, and he hopes to find a new location during the month of March. Slated for an April reopening, Spencer hopes to keep the much-needed venue within city limits. Eastcide, Split, Drained, and God Stands Still will do the honors at the final show, February 26, which is also a benefit to raise funds for the move. It's good to see City Hall continuing its long-running tradition of sticking it to the small business owner, while giving unwarranted TIF's to multimillion dollar organizations. And these wizards can't figure out why downtown went to hell! Speaking of foresight, the proposed Arts District has been voted down and sent to the city council for consideration, pending changes in the current plan. Local business owners argued they haven't been properly included in the process, and that Ray Mariano was trying to gain passage for a zoned artist's neighborhood too quickly. All that was obvious to us at last week's meeting is that neither faction of this debate has done its proper homework. On a brighter note local rockers/fashion plates Downchild are currently listening to pitches from a half-dozen record-label execs who caught their set at the Philadelphia Music Conference. The boys are keeping a lid on the action so they don't jinx themselves. Little Big Wheel have been in Maine cutting another batch of demos to shop, and the Pathetics have just wrapped up the production of their impending CD.