It’s not surprising that Devon Sproule is more commercially successful than her husband, Paul Curreri. Curreri has been quoted in interviews as not being very comfortable with self-promotion, reminiscent of late nights in college, when everyone promised not to sell out or become predictable. For those who struggle to stay true to these proclamations, it’s a lonely road, but Curreri seems content. Most refreshingly, his earnestness and dedication to art above marketing is not a pose. Paul Curreri is sincere.
“I walk round the house most days playing guitar,” Paul said when we caught him from across the pond, on the British leg of his current tour. “Eventually, some piece of music jumps out and wakes me up outta the sorta meditating duuuhhhhh. And so I play it again. And then I sing to it. Just made-up nonsense words, just to get the melody down, and figure out my rhythmic options. The whole time I try to pay attention to how it feels to play the music. Maybe the music is reminding me of a certain place, story, feeling, or emotion; recognizing that, I make sure this song's lyrics include the element. Then I make coffee and rattle out the words, which usually takes about an hour. Then I have some wine, and I record it. Then I have lots more wine and celebrate a day well spent. In the morning, I stick my neck out a bit, press play, and see if it's any good. If it is, I play start playing it at concerts. If it isn't, I think about working in a fish market down the road from my house. I like how it smells in there, and everybody who works there is always smiling.”
Both artists have released albums recently that have garnered international attention, and Seattle is lucky enough to have them performing together this Saturday, in a rare collaborative tour. Sproule is quick to point out, however, that this is Curreri’s gig. They’re promoting his album, not hers. While that may be difficult with her music being more well-known, I have to agree with her that The Velvet Rut, Curreri’s fifth and latest album, deserves not to be overshadowed.
The album begins with “Mantra”, a song that combines a Joy Division intro with the slow freight train sound of the Delta blues. Curreri starts with a cough and then chants the lyrics low, as if struggling under his smoker’s breath.
“If you could hear the sound of four in the morning you'd let me cook my meat however I wanted. For once this little town ain't leaving without me. I only ask you for an endless forgiveness. I only ask you to depend on my loving. It is the sharpest prick in the deepest forest. The beer fall empty and I fill up with fire. I’m walking toward your mouth repeating my mantra.” Several voices come together towards the end of the song, with one staying calm while another is screaming.
Performing every instrument and every vocal, Curreri gives a sense of complete control over the album. He’s pulling inspiration from America, twentieth century folk and bluegrass weaving in and out. It’s been characterized as “country-folk” but has everything from Lou Reed to Mojo Nixon, all combined into some funky blues that would make even Tom Waits’ mouth water.
“Fat killer in the golden dawn, cut his teeth on daydreams. Rise up and he crack his neck. Last night's kid is gone. Marvelous steel so pretty, prominent throat so easy. That feller talked tough, didn’t he? No damn pity, so damn easy. Sometimes in the hotel room. Sometimes in the rented duplex. Sometimes in the cinema draft. Sometimes in the easy pass.” Curreri is taking risks. His masterful finger-picking shows a real dedication to the guitar, a unique style that only comes from obsessive playing. Lyrically, his slant rhymes and occasional word jumbles stand out as modern American poetry in their own right. If his late night wandering leaves him helplessly enslaved to his guitar, these songs are the reward. More daring and alive than his previous albums, Curreri’s songwriting has finally come unhinged.
Curreri describes his musical inspiration as “folks that sound as though they found what they were looking for, just for a minute, celebrated, lost it again, and kept looking.” On The Velvet Rut, Curreri has found it, for more than just a minute.
He and Devon will be celebrating in Seattle on October 27th, sponsored by the Seattle Folklore Society and appearing live at the Phinney Neighborhood Center. Join these two folk-country lovers before they’re too big to catch in such an intimate setting.
