Review: Amos Lee Nudges Lyrical and Vocal Boundaries on ‘Transmissions’

RATING CHART:
1 note – Pass
1.5 notes – Mediocre
2 notes – Average
2.5 notes – Above Average
3 notes – Good
3.5 notes – Great
4 notes – Excellent
4.5 notes – Exceptional
5 notes – Classic

AMOS LEE
TRANSMISSIONS
(Hoagiemouth/Thirty Tigers)
🎵🎵🎵1/2

This is singer/songwriter Amos Lee’s first new material in two years, but he’s been busy. He released albums covering the songs of two of his influences—Americana icon Lucinda Williams and jazz legend Chet Baker—allowing him time to craft the dozen new tunes on Transmissions.  

While nothing sounds specifically like either Lucinda or Chet, their impacts are noticeable in threads (dramatic and jazzy) that comprise the material’s multi-colored fabric. Existing Lee fans will be pleased to learn that there’s little that deviates from the intimate, personal, introspective grace that has defined his style from his debut (2004).

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The set opens with twitches of Dylan-esque  wordplay on “Built to Fall.” Lee strums acoustic guitar as he unpacks extended, complex, rhyming lyrics of Mystical, hysterical, radical, tyrannical, cynical, the pinnacle, the pitiful in their pretty wool. And that’s just the first sentence.

Things loosen up with more melodic offerings. That’s especially evident in the sweet ballad “Beautiful Day” (as supple and sunshine-y as its title) and the shuffling, brushed drums that propel “Darkest Places,” the latter taking a page from early Paul Simon with the lyrics Even in the darkest places we still look for love.

Lee’s in a reflective, often hushed and musically stripped-down mood. From the softly strummed melancholic “Night Light,” the intricate finger-picked guitar that introduces “Baby Pictures” (sung in delicate falsetto as he begs a loved one not to die) and the forlorn “When You Go” (with subtle string quartet), the vibe is pensive and muted.

On “Madison,” Lee begins in a trembling voice over stark piano. But his temperament suddenly changes halfway through. He throws in some surprising “F” bombs, and a stun guitar appears with full booming orchestra, altering the tone radically as he sings with a gripping intensity; I’ve been cutting myself again before returning to the more understated lament it started with.

Transmissions is heartfelt, sincere, and similar to Amos Lee’s previous work while nudging lyrical and occasionally vocal boundaries with his refined, moving approach.       

Photo by Denise Guerin