Music
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Dave Crossland has found a fresh, new sound by mixing his singer/songwriter sensibilities with a strong infusion of pop that is hard to resist. It is one of the best recordings of this year, or any year.
Dave Crossland is a find. In a simple, supple, seductive voice he takes us on an incomparable journey through the front doors and back alleys of America, introducing us to a unique cast of characters and experiences along the way. His distinctive vocals set him apart from his contemporaries - he simply sounds like no one else. And unlike many of today's acoustic singer/songwriters, he has a true pop sensibility that is infectious, and could, if he plays his cards right, lead him directly into music's mainstream. There is a huge audience out there for Crossland's fresh take on the American dream.
Easy Money" opens Pearl, Crossland's first recording in four years. By the first few bars you are hooked. You can't help it. Beginning with the crisp, clipped notes of his 1949 Gibson guitar, and his gentle, accessible vocal style, you can hear every word of the lyrics. He tells the story of a young woman with a wide open future, indicating the road that lies ahead, waiting to be taken.
Pearl is infectious and upbeat. It talks about an interesting mix of individuals, who, one by one, gives up his or her old life for new dreams and new possibilities. Crossland shows us the way on guitar, with the added sweetness of rising star Antje Duvekot's accompanying vocals, and the incomparable Jim Infantino on percussion.
I love the opening lines of "Cheap Red Wine" as they trip off the tip of Crossland's tongue:
Cheap red wine and the floor
under your Mexican whorehouse lights
the summer breeze is leaving baby
Do you know what you believe in
Jimmy Ryan supplies the south of the border heat on inspired mandolin.
Pretty Little Feet is haunting and sophisticated, featuring a jazzy turn by Don Anderson on trumpet. Hard to Say starts out slow and sexy with a rock-infused bridge powered by Steve Sadler on lap steel guitar. Something in Crossland's phrasing and style evokes '60s icon Donovan in I Wonder. But it is Madison Rose that bowls me over with all of its hooks, catchy melody and rhythm. This one should go straight to pop radio. It hits you right between the eyes (and ears) with its effervescence and sheer joy. More Dave on harmonica, please!
Pearl is a jewel of a CD. Dave Crossland has found a fresh, new sound by mixing his singer/songwriter sensibilities with a strong infusion of pop that is hard to resist. It is one of the best recordings of this year, or any year. - The Folk & Acoustic Music Exchange
Dave Crossland has known life's hardships. During the 1990s - his time as a budding singer-songwriter in Boston - Crossland lived with his mother in Marshfield, while she slowly, over an eight year period, succumbed to cancer. Yet one of the lowest points in Crossland's life could've been a seemingly unremarkable night he sat alone in his apartment, exhausted from a day at his full-time computer job.
"I was living like a pauper, digging myself out of credit card debt," says the musician, who plays the Lizard Lounge on March 23. "I had dropped music completely, and I didn't know if I would ever get back into it. I even questioned whether I was a musician anymore. Maybe I had never been one? It was a dark time, filled with self-doubt.
"Then, I decided to pick up my guitar, and it hurt my fingers to play!" he adds. "It was a sensation I hadn't had since I was 13. Lucinda Williams' song 'Drunken Angel' became meaningful to me."
Suddenly, in the midst of this interview at an Inman Square café, Crossland begins to softly sing that song's lyrics: "Why'd you let go of your guitar? Why'd you ever let it go that far?"
A good question. How had it gotten that far? For Crossland was considered one of the bright young lights of the thriving Cambridge-Boston folk scene of the early 1990s. Catie Curtis, Ellis Paul and Crossland made their first marks on the local scene singing at "WGBH Night at the Nameless Coffeehouse" in 1988. Both his '90s albums were well-reviewed.
"I was just a wide-eyed kid from Michigan who found himself in Boston. I'm eternally naïve in a lot of ways," the still-boyish Crossland says. "And I am not a very good capitalist."
That last statement can be handily proven by Crossland's Nashville tenure. When he moved to Music City U.S.A. in 1999, Crossland did not schmooze, hobnob, co-write or sell himself. When his friend and mentor, folk legend John Stewart, arranged a lunch for Crossland with the president of Sony-Tree publishing, it might've been a huge break, but, bizarrely, Crossland had no new songs or tapes to show him.
Then, right before Appleseed Records released an EP of his songs, Crossland dropped his manager. (Admittedly, the relationship had turned sour.) And he ultimately found himself, in debt, working temp jobs like stuffing envelopes for Faith Hill in the Warner Brothers mailroom.
Yet for a man as likable and talented as Crossland, there turned out to be a second chapter in his musical life.
Back in the Boston-area, Crossland took up guitar again, developed calluses on his fretting hand once more, and began writing songs, just for his own joy. He shared some of these new songs with his longtime friend, musician Jim Infantino.
"He immediately offered to produce an album," says Crossland, a sense of wonder in his voice.
A new album meant an investment of cash Crossland simply did not have. But eventually, he began moving forward with the project. And then a remarkable thing happened: Every friend in the music field who heard the tapes fell in love with the songs and offered to help the project along. Soon, Crossland had a manager, a booking agent, a publicist and a radio-promotions person. Infantino designed a sublime, elegant CD package. And Liz Linder shot some miraculously beautiful photographs at dawn on Nantasket Beach: a contented Crossland, barefoot, dressed in a black suit, carrying, alternately, a briefcase and a guitar, scampers in the surf.
"The album happened in a completely natural way, at first just playing the songs for a friend. It was effortless, putting it together. We kept the recording simple, honest, not trying for perfection, never doing more than four takes. And I think it's the most beautiful thing I've ever created," says Crossland, who plays a CD release gig at Cambridge's Lizard Lounge on March 23.
Called "Pearl," the album is easily the finest of Crossland's career. A sinuous, sophisticated work, it instantly seduces on a pure sound level: Gentle yet inventive, it seems touched by such diverse tunesmiths as Donovan and Bruce Springsteen. Crossland's voice is graceful and liquid, and his phrasing is impeccable. Unlike almost any other contemporary folk talent from New England, Crossland is a singer with true pop gifts. Like Josh Ritter, he evokes the tone of love without forcing the issue. And, like someone who has seen much of life's up and downs, he often sounds wise, and, despite his self-described "eternal naiveté," even hip to the ways of the world.
"This album is a homecoming. It got me back to the fun of playing, to the beauty of song, to just having some meaning in my life," Crossland says with a boyish smile. "For a long time I was walking around not knowing if I was in my own skin. This album has allowed me to find myself again."
Dave Crossland and his band play the Lizard Lounge, 1667 Mass. Ave., Thursday, March 23, 9:30 p.m. Call 617-547-0759. - Cambridge Chronicle
Dave Crossland has known life's hardships. During the 1990s - his time as a budding singer-songwriter in Boston - Crossland lived with his mother in Marshfield, while she slowly, over an eight year period, succumbed to cancer. Yet one of the lowest points in Crossland's life could've been a seemingly unremarkable night he sat alone in his apartment, exhausted from a day at his full-time computer job.
"I was living like a pauper, digging myself out of credit card debt," says the musician, who plays the Lizard Lounge on March 23. "I had dropped music completely, and I didn't know if I would ever get back into it. I even questioned whether I was a musician anymore. Maybe I had never been one? It was a dark time, filled with self-doubt.
"Then, I decided to pick up my guitar, and it hurt my fingers to play!" he adds. "It was a sensation I hadn't had since I was 13. Lucinda Williams' song 'Drunken Angel' became meaningful to me."
Suddenly, in the midst of this interview at an Inman Square café, Crossland begins to softly sing that song's lyrics: "Why'd you let go of your guitar? Why'd you ever let it go that far?"
A good question. How had it gotten that far? For Crossland was considered one of the bright young lights of the thriving Cambridge-Boston folk scene of the early 1990s. Catie Curtis, Ellis Paul and Crossland made their first marks on the local scene singing at "WGBH Night at the Nameless Coffeehouse" in 1988. Both his '90s albums were well-reviewed.
"I was just a wide-eyed kid from Michigan who found himself in Boston. I'm eternally naïve in a lot of ways," the still-boyish Crossland says. "And I am not a very good capitalist."
That last statement can be handily proven by Crossland's Nashville tenure. When he moved to Music City U.S.A. in 1999, Crossland did not schmooze, hobnob, co-write or sell himself. When his friend and mentor, folk legend John Stewart, arranged a lunch for Crossland with the president of Sony-Tree publishing, it might've been a huge break, but, bizarrely, Crossland had no new songs or tapes to show him.
Then, right before Appleseed Records released an EP of his songs, Crossland dropped his manager. (Admittedly, the relationship had turned sour.) And he ultimately found himself, in debt, working temp jobs like stuffing envelopes for Faith Hill in the Warner Brothers mailroom.
Yet for a man as likable and talented as Crossland, there turned out to be a second chapter in his musical life.
Back in the Boston-area, Crossland took up guitar again, developed calluses on his fretting hand once more, and began writing songs, just for his own joy. He shared some of these new songs with his longtime friend, musician Jim Infantino.
"He immediately offered to produce an album," says Crossland, a sense of wonder in his voice.
A new album meant an investment of cash Crossland simply did not have. But eventually, he began moving forward with the project. And then a remarkable thing happened: Every friend in the music field who heard the tapes fell in love with the songs and offered to help the project along. Soon, Crossland had a manager, a booking agent, a publicist and a radio-promotions person. Infantino designed a sublime, elegant CD package. And Liz Linder shot some miraculously beautiful photographs at dawn on Nantasket Beach: a contented Crossland, barefoot, dressed in a black suit, carrying, alternately, a briefcase and a guitar, scampers in the surf.
"The album happened in a completely natural way, at first just playing the songs for a friend. It was effortless, putting it together. We kept the recording simple, honest, not trying for perfection, never doing more than four takes. And I think it's the most beautiful thing I've ever created," says Crossland, who plays a CD release gig at Cambridge's Lizard Lounge on March 23.
Called "Pearl," the album is easily the finest of Crossland's career. A sinuous, sophisticated work, it instantly seduces on a pure sound level: Gentle yet inventive, it seems touched by such diverse tunesmiths as Donovan and Bruce Springsteen. Crossland's voice is graceful and liquid, and his phrasing is impeccable. Unlike almost any other contemporary folk talent from New England, Crossland is a singer with true pop gifts. Like Josh Ritter, he evokes the tone of love without forcing the issue. And, like someone who has seen much of life's up and downs, he often sounds wise, and, despite his self-described "eternal naiveté," even hip to the ways of the world.
"This album is a homecoming. It got me back to the fun of playing, to the beauty of song, to just having some meaning in my life," Crossland says with a boyish smile. "For a long time I was walking around not knowing if I was in my own skin. This album has allowed me to find myself again."
Dave Crossland and his band play the Lizard Lounge, 1667 Mass. Ave., Thursday, March 23, 9:30 p.m. Call 617-547-0759. - Cambridge Chronicle
Discography
The Set That Wasn't - 2008
Pearl - 2006
Photos
Bio
Dave Crossland is something of an enigma. Criss-crossing the country with a 1949 Gibson J-45, Crossland delivers contemporary themes and observations with an ageless perspective that "seduces on a pure sound level". The result has a unique relevance not easily categorized by the mainstream music industry or the indie acoustic scene.
Crossland is a first-class vocalist, and highly respected among his songwriting peers. "From the long line of Guthrie, Dylan and Springsteen - it’s only a matter of time until Crossland takes his place among the great songwriters of the 21st century", said the late John Stewart, legendary writer and key member of the Kingston Trio. Crossland recorded and toured with Stewart in the early 2000s, and now works with the LA-based John Stewart band as a side project dedicated to keeping his mentor's music in the American consciousness.
A road monkey at heart, Crossland is most at home traveling between coasts, hitting stages large and small. In the past year, Crossland has opened for John Waite, Shawn Colvin, and Kenny Loggins, and shared the stage with Lindsey Buckingham, Roseanne Cash, and Catie Curtis, among others.
Crossland has released 4 CDs on his own, in addition to an indie recording produced in Nashville. His most recent disc, Pearl, surpassed those of Springsteen and Neko Case in a list of top 10 albums for 2006 from the Boston Herald. Crossland's next move is to LA, with a new release expected in 2009.
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