Gurf Morlix: The Soul & The Heal

Gurf Morlix
The Soul & The Heal
(Rootball)
Rating: 3 1/2 out of 5 stars

Despite eight previous solid solo albums, most Americana fans know Gurf Morlix through his backup and production work for others, particularly Lucinda Williams. That’s unfortunate because the dusky voiced multi-instrumentalist has plenty to say and a tough, darker sound that lays at the heart of his lyrically healing music, reflected not just in this album’s title but also its cover photo of a hard pit at the center of a cut-away strawberry.

Recording in his home Rootball Studio (also the name of his self-released label) allows Morlix not only to take his time, but to overdub himself on guitars, bass and keyboards for songs that are sparse but not skeletal. Only veteran drummer Rick Richards is on every track, a few of which are assisted by Ray Bonneville’s subtle harmonica that adds ghostly grit to some already portentous tracks such as the slow bluesy lope of “Bad Things.”

The vibe is often as thick and motionless as a heavy fog, even if conceptually Morlix sings about adoration. That’s the case in the self-explanatory “Love Remains Unbroken” which unfolds over a slowly creeping beat and feels more ominous than upbeat. The same holds for the sultry passion of “Quicksilver Kiss,” chronicling an electric instant resulting in the song’s title, an action that stays with the its narrator for life. Morlix rocks things up in “My Chainsaw” (“cut like a hot knife/cut like a guillotine”) where he cuts loose on guitar with a succinct but biting solo, a rarity for an album that is more about atmosphere than instrumental virtuosity. The deliberate, restrained reggae of “Right Now” also captures a moment in time Morlix wants to remember as he sings, “here’s a toast to what I’m thinkin’/it’s all about right now,” trying to hang on to a “spectacular” feeling forever. The unaccompanied folksy closing ballad “The Best We Can” sounds like a forgotten Tom Waits track from his first few albums as the protagonist looks at life to find the glass half full.

Morlix talk-sing-growls with world weary passion and an inner strength that effectively overrides his limited vocal abilities. Similar leisurely tempos create a mood seldom broken on this 10-song set that burrows into its swampy groove and mostly stays there. It’s clearly a place where, like his studio, he feels at home. That creates a comfortable if tenacious envelope for his laconic explorations into the human heart and its myriad emotions.