Eric Bettencourt

The singer-songwriter’s new album combines beauty and levity.

By Kristin Dicara-McClellan • Portland Press Hearld • Portland, ME • 4/3/2014

All of us Eric Bettencourt fans soon will get to hear his long anticipated release, “An Underwater Dream.”

The album and the song of the same name opens up with a beautifully lonesome acoustic piece as it leans gently into a lush sonic thicket. Perched atop the mix in perfect position is Eric’s unmistakable voice whispering to us about this reverie of his. The imagery is as vague as it is beautiful. With tight harmonies that lightly grace the vibe, bringing a big flavor to the picture, the mood is set; it’s smoky and fluid, calm and evocative.

“Climbing Back” takes a smooth step up into a cozy groove of modern Americana blues. A sweet asymmetry of pauses and a soulful Bettencourt all tell of losing love and wondering what went wrong.

The semi-cheery musical currents at work beneath his words, “I’m climbing back with a limp again/I’m gonna swallow that same medicine,” tare rather incongruent, and I could almost hear the laughing sighs in and under his breath.

“Baby in the Bathtub,” “Tracing Paper” and “Harold and Maude” each bring a uniquely heavy-footed beat and some more obvious levity to your ears.

On the production end, it really pulls off what is so very difficult to do with this particular type of music. It manages to bring an immediacy that belongs to the live show and carries the listener through its more upbeat parts without dumbing them down sonically or losing the overall dynamic of the collection as a whole.

So when “Shake Us Off” begins by throwing its pedal-steel whines way off into the cavernous distance, six tracks deep, I got a rush of tingle down my spine as its first few notes settled back into a misty space, with a slow-pulsing drum pattern rising up to buoy them.

“Weary Traveler” brings back the blues with a patient resolve, and with lines like “routine is the antidote and the poison the unknown,” it infectiously drives a point home.

The album closer, “Under a Tree,” leaves us with a waltzy c’est la vie. It’s full of rich imagery of the personal sort, then eventually ends with an exhale of “there’s a face in your window that relates but can’t understand,” and the listener can only speculate. Whatever that means, I’m pretty sure Eric’s right.

But even if he’s not, I think this is his most solid work to date. - Portland Press Hearld

Eric Bettencourt returns with Underwater Dream

By SAM PFEIFLE | April 28, 2014

In terms of economic activity, music has got to be somewhere on the list of Maine’s top 10 exports. Even if Ray LaMontagne doesn’t count.

We can clearly lay claim to Eric Bettencourt, a singer-songwriter now gigging around Austin after Portland releases of two full-lengths and two EPS, including, most recently, Weightless Embrace, a fun collection of well done covers of known and unknown songs — the “Simple Twist of Fate” is as different as could be, maybe more entertaining than the original.

He returns to town next week with Underwater Dream in tow, a new album of eight songs that sound like they’ve been chiseled from marble, wood-shedded, and revised until they’re right where Bettencourt wants them. This is a guy who cares deeply about his craft — who cares deeply in general — and it shows in everything from his couplets to the way he, Steve Drown, and Pete Morse captured the warm, earthy tones that populate this album.

Everything comes together in the perfect storm that is the title track, where Bettencourt opens with a vocal riff that shows off the development of his singing technique, which has settled somewhere between LaMontagne and Janis Joplin. He’s a high tenor, like he’s always been, but without the back-of-the-throat Kermit effect that could creep in there every once in a while. This allows the piece to get artfully nostalgic. It even made me tear up at least once (but I was pretty stoned) with the bittersweet, “We built a fire on some bones.”

As with most songs here, Bettencourt also shows off his considerable chops on the acoustic guitar, with great fingerwork that he uses to alter the song’s tempo as he breaks down into the chorus with each step of this line’s litany: “Tears they sting my eyes like broken glass, or rock, or hail.”

The chorus is highly singable, then gives way to a couple of guitars soloing alongside each other, one more wah-ed than the other, with everything perfectly rough around the sonic edges. And it all gets a good fireside embrace from Anna Lombard’s and Sara Hallie Richardson’s ethereal backing vocals, like a glow behind Bettencourt’s head.

Most of the rest of the album is more upbeat, or at least more up-tempo. Even the waltz that finishes the record, “Under a Tree,” is quick and delicate on the acoustic guitar, where Bettencourt can tell a story without needing the English language. It’s infused, too, with Lauren Hastings-Genova violin, which sits overtop Pete Genova’s thumping bass (congrats on getting hitched, kids), and then Morse chimes in with an electric guitar line. In the headphones, you might be particularly aware of guitar parts being plugged into the left and right channels.

In fact, it’s hard not to notice the construction of the album as a whole. It can add a level of enjoyment — “hey, is that a banjo on ‘Shake Us Off’?” — but there are times, as on “Weary Traveler,” where the crisp repeating phrases come off as mechanical, like you’re listening to a robot band at Disneyland, created specifically for your themepark enjoyment.

There’s a frequently intense energy that takes on different meaning, too, when you hear the words to a tune like “Shake Us Off”— is it anger that fuels Bettencourt?

“Have you any sense of what we’ve done?” he asks in what opens as a ballad, with Morse being appropriately moody on the pedal steel. But then you notice “she” is probably the Earth, and you hear, “I’ll hold you like we were living/ In hell’s darkest ravine,” and that “there’s nothing left to destroy,” repeated with the easiest of sing-song deliveries, like the end of the world is so inevitable it isn’t even bad news.

Is the furor with which some of these songs move actually more like fury?

Even a song like “Climbing Back,” which is full of Widespread Panic-style blues jam, has plenty of dark themes — “I learned to cry without making any sound” — like the somber side of Gram Parsons. There’s definitely something powerful behind phrasing like, “I’m wound tighter than a tornado’s tail/ She’s as stubborn as a mule for sale/ That love was better than any fairy tale/ We fought tooth and nail.”

Those are words that were worked on.

Thoughtfulness and real attention pervade Underwater Dream. If you appreciate a song’s manufacture, the way it’s written and executed, this is an album you’ll enjoy, even if it’s not necessarily in your taste wheelhouse. If it is, you’ll likely find yourself among those welcoming Bettencourt back to town at One Longfellow. - Portland Phoenix • Sam Pfeifle

LISTEN-June 2012
By Sophie Nelson
Photograph by Matt Cosby

Eric Bettencourt is a man who lives by a familiar idiom: If you want something done right, do it yourself. When the time came to record his first album a few years ago, Bettencourt saved up, purchased the necessary equipment, and learned to record himself. His latest album, Secret Songs for Secret People, features his crackly vocals overlaying a kaleidoscope of supporting sounds. He shrugs off compliments. "I'm just one of those people who has to figure everything out on his own. Not because I love being in control, I just don't like being let down by other people."

Cut to Bettencourt at age 13, saddled with his fair share of teen angst. Guns N' Roses, delivered on tape through headphones, was his escape. "There was so much light and darkness and texture to that music." His own compositions and recording techniques replicate this multifaceted sound. Each instrument maintains its intrinsic character—squeaks and gasps escape from guitar strings between clean plucks and strums. Secret Songs for Secret People is a little bit blues, a little bit rock, and a little bit folk. More importantly, it's a tight, intricate album that showcases both the mastery and emotional depth of its maker.

Bettencourt is wound up. Not uptight, but energetic, wiry, compact. He radiates a sense of determination that makes him someone you would be both hesitant to fight and eager to befriend. He tells me that he likes to be busy, needs to be busy, but that he's always craving quiet space to create in. He explains that stress begets songs, and—in the same breath—that songs materialize when he slows down. The take-home point is that life is full of contradictions. It's also a balancing act, and a difficult one. The modern musician must be part artist, part businessman, and part marketer. Bettencourt teaches guitar lessons, plays weddings with his band Velourosaurus, and occasionally records other local musicians. And while he doesn't exactly relish the life of a Renaissance man, he is certainly up to the challenge. His talents are innumerable, and his work ethic is truly rare. "When I get into a project the blinders go on and I don't see a thing until it's done," he explains. If that's Bettencourt talking heads up, tails sounds like this: "I'm just now getting around to understanding how important it is to watch the paint peel and stare at the sky."

Bettencourt is looking to focus his seemingly boundless energy on writing and performing his own music. His innate longing is both his foil and his great fortune. It pushes him ever forward, resonates in his voice and in his lyrics, and pervades and defines even his more light-hearted tracks. The song "Furious Pace" is upbeat, but the lyrics reveal a deep-rooted desire: "Will I ever find, some semblance of a quiet mind? I try to get off this grid. I dig and I dig and I'm pulled further in." Who hasn't dealt with conflicting desires? Who isn't a little frustrated? Eric Bettencourt's singing our common song. And thank goodness because where would we end up going if we didn't have our sights set on the next thing? - Downeast Magazine

By MIKE OLCOTT January 14, 2010

The last time Eric Bettencourt was heard from, he was releasing his fantastic, full-length sophomore CD, "The Giraffe Attack Collection." He is as prolific an artist as we've got in these parts, and his recording efforts yield songs that ooze confidence and bleed soul.

Ever active, Bettencourt recently released the EP, "This Big House," with plans to put the title track on the new film "Come to Know" from the Maine Film Collaborative.

It's a simple, three-song effort that barely warrants a review, except that Bettencourt's work may someday be regarded as the time capsule "sound" of Portland during this stretch of years. He has reached a level of trust with his fans where any release is worthwhile.

"Liza Jane" gets imaginary boots stomping immediately; this tune should be played loud in a room with dusty floorboards. Though it's a traditional number, there's nothing old-fashioned about it, and it has Bettencourt's paw prints all over it.

With an urgent banjo-vs.-rock-guitar verse dynamic, it's rough-and-tumble around the edges, with a tootsie-roll pop center when the chorus drops.

This is a tension-release structure that the "Giraffe Attack" songwriter does as well, and as often, as anyone. At 2 minutes, 31 seconds, it's here and gone, but not before it fades out with some backwards banjo spicing the outro.

"My Lady Tuesday" mercilessly conjures the long light of a New England July day. With furious finger-picking and a great electric bass sidekick, the artist is in his comfort zone with this original instrumental.

The best part of the EP? That would be Bettencourt's joyous hands-on percussion that hits midway through this tune. He's just bopping his head, rapping out rhythms on the nearest drum possible – in this case, his knees. It fits naturally with the rest of the arrangement – a snare or djembe would be overpowering, but knee-drums surely beget more knee-drums, invoking listeners to keep up with their own bodily rhythms.

It's strange then, that the title track is a bit of a non-starter. It's an Allman Brothers haunted-house ballad, beautifully rendered with the help of talented friends such as Amanda Gervasi of Gypsy Tailwind.

But the progression plods along predictably, a three-chord yawn, and nothing of any transcendence occurs until the inevitable soaring guitar/ghostly reverb choir denouement. A saucy bridge, a "Layla"-like tempo shift, or anything constituting a risk would have carried this tune a lot further.

Mike Olcott is a freelance writer who lives in Portland. - Portland Press Hearld

This single gives an offering of what’s to come from Eric Bettencourt’s upcoming release, The Giraffe Attack Collection with a couple of bonus tracks that didn’t make the cut. The “single” tracks are poppy with little flashes of southern rock and blues. Bettencourt sounds a lot like Shannon Hoon, giving his band’s sound an obvious Blind Melon tinge, but the music is more intricate, sophisticated, and fun. If the rest of this album is as good as these two songs, then we are in for a treat. The “bonus” tracks are the real prize in this Cracker Jack box, and this is what they left off the album! “Lighthouse” is a trippy epic that could have been on McCartney’s Ram, if Shannon Hoon were old enough—and alive enough—to have sung on it. (Joel Simches) - The Boston Noise

Of course, you may just want to rock out this weekend, and for that, Eric Bettencourt's got you covered. Sure, you pegged him as folkie after Fine Old World, but he's been working on material with his old band, Giraffe Attack, for a few years now, and this stuff is decidedly more full-bodied, as evidenced by The Giraffe Attack Collection. He draws liberally from the classic rock masters - the Beatles, Clapton, a little Leon Redbone; I'd call the open to "What Works" a "Meg White" homage - but keeps things particularly robust, with multiple guitars, piano, banjo, trumpet, lots of backing vocals, continuing his reputation as someone who really knows how to use the studio.

As with Fine Old World, Bettencourt seems concerned with emphasizing the "album" quality of this album, tying things together with a central question: "Do you believe you can outdo perfection?/Do you believe you can outdo your God?" But this is an album that hangs together by virtue of its aesthetic. Like the pairing of the guitar riff and trumpet solo in "Empty Sidewalks," the banjo that tears through the back of "Miss Miserable," or the "la, la, la" backing in the Munsters-esque "Stonewalled" (right before it opens into the best chorus of the album), Bettencourt's arrangements and songwriting turns are consistently interesting and indicative of a curious mind.

There's nothing by the book here. If it feels like Bettencourt is everywhere lately, it's because he is, and he should maybe turn down a few gigs here and there to avoid being overexposed, but there's a reason Rustic Overtones pegged him to sit in for Ray LaMontagne's parts recently. He's an evolving talent you'd be wise to watch. - Portland Phoenix

This single gives an offering of what’s to come from Eric Bettencourt’s upcoming release, The Giraffe Attack Collection with a couple of bonus tracks that didn’t make the cut. The “single” tracks are poppy with little flashes of southern rock and blues. Bettencourt sounds a lot like Shannon Hoon, giving his band’s sound an obvious Blind Melon tinge, but the music is more intricate, sophisticated, and fun. If the rest of this album is as good as these two songs, then we are in for a treat. The “bonus” tracks are the real prize in this Cracker Jack box, and this is what they left off the album! “Lighthouse” is a trippy epic that could have been on McCartney’s Ram, if Shannon Hoon were old enough—and alive enough—to have sung on it. (Joel Simches) - The Boston Noise

* 2009
* Inside Maine
Kathleen Fleury

Ray LaMontagne might be Maine’s most famous singer/songwriter right now, but the state has a slew of young artists poised for future fame. One of the most promising is Portland resident Eric Bettencourt, a member of the popular local trio Giraffe Attack. Fine Old World (Shadow Shine Records, www.eric-bettencourt.com, $9.99) is Bettencourt’s widely praised debut album. Featuring mostly original tracks and one rare LaMontagne cover, Fine Old World meanders through a range of styles and sounds, a journey punctuated by the title track performed in three parts. Bettencourt’s raspy voice enchants listeners on softer songs such as “Sweet Elise” and exudes personality on the more forceful ones like “Uniform.” From bluesy rock to folksy funk, the styles on this debut album demonstrate Bettencourt’s varied influences — and his deserved place as a rising star in Maine’s music scene. - Downeast Magazine

* 2009
* Inside Maine
Kathleen Fleury

Ray LaMontagne might be Maine’s most famous singer/songwriter right now, but the state has a slew of young artists poised for future fame. One of the most promising is Portland resident Eric Bettencourt, a member of the popular local trio Giraffe Attack. Fine Old World (Shadow Shine Records, www.eric-bettencourt.com, $9.99) is Bettencourt’s widely praised debut album. Featuring mostly original tracks and one rare LaMontagne cover, Fine Old World meanders through a range of styles and sounds, a journey punctuated by the title track performed in three parts. Bettencourt’s raspy voice enchants listeners on softer songs such as “Sweet Elise” and exudes personality on the more forceful ones like “Uniform.” From bluesy rock to folksy funk, the styles on this debut album demonstrate Bettencourt’s varied influences — and his deserved place as a rising star in Maine’s music scene. - Downeast Magazine

Leave it to Portland firecracker Eric Bettencourt to lead off his second official release, "The Giraffe Attack Collection," with a Freddie Mercury-worthy tune about outdoing, or not outdoing, your god.

Buzz has been building on the songwriting phenom ever since he dropped his sugar-plum debut, "Fine Old World," back in January. It's not uncommon for an overzealous strong starter to fall into the bad sophomore slump, but Bettencourt seems too well prepared to suffer the obvious misstep. Truth be told, he has earned the pop swagger that drives this record. It likely won't be long before Bettencourt moves on from the venerable Old Port circuit to play the houses of blues that lie ahead.

It's not the ever-reliable backwoods rasp on Bettencourt's pipes that makes this effort stand out. Nor is it the genuine sense of fun that, from the sounds of it, these able musicians are having together. It's actually the way Bettencourt makes writing great songs seem really easy.

Take the effortless, bountiful hooks on "Empty Sidewalks." A breezy Allman-Brothers-in-the-clouds verse opens up in a fist-pumping reggae chorus. These sure-handed decisions are the mark of an artist supremely comfortable in his own skin.

On "The Fear," Bettencourt lets his inner Janis Joplin run all over backbeat country soul to wickedly catchy effect. Drawing from two clear influences, Ray LaMontagne and Van Morrison, the band offers a sweetly swaying backporch shuffle on "Fell Into Place." In other words, feel free to put the feet up and find something to sip. The music does all the work for you – songcraft as it was originally intended.

Oddly, it's the single "Two Wine Glasses" that turns out to be the weak point of the album. An obvious storyline (wine + just the two of us = intrigue) powering a radio-ready repetitive riff comes up a bit flat, as if the group forgot about the looseness that made the rest of the session click.

It should also be noted that Bettencourt is a professional about his work. He has cultivated a following worthy of the imminent "Next Step" simply by keeping his nose to the grindstone. While the plight of a young musician is surely a harrowing one in these days and times, Bettencourt has protected himself from an uncertain future the best way he knows how – by writing irresistible, powerhouse records.

Mike Olcott is a freelance writer who lives in Portland. - Portland Press Hearld

Leave it to Portland firecracker Eric Bettencourt to lead off his second official release, "The Giraffe Attack Collection," with a Freddie Mercury-worthy tune about outdoing, or not outdoing, your god.

Buzz has been building on the songwriting phenom ever since he dropped his sugar-plum debut, "Fine Old World," back in January. It's not uncommon for an overzealous strong starter to fall into the bad sophomore slump, but Bettencourt seems too well prepared to suffer the obvious misstep. Truth be told, he has earned the pop swagger that drives this record. It likely won't be long before Bettencourt moves on from the venerable Old Port circuit to play the houses of blues that lie ahead.

It's not the ever-reliable backwoods rasp on Bettencourt's pipes that makes this effort stand out. Nor is it the genuine sense of fun that, from the sounds of it, these able musicians are having together. It's actually the way Bettencourt makes writing great songs seem really easy.

Take the effortless, bountiful hooks on "Empty Sidewalks." A breezy Allman-Brothers-in-the-clouds verse opens up in a fist-pumping reggae chorus. These sure-handed decisions are the mark of an artist supremely comfortable in his own skin.

On "The Fear," Bettencourt lets his inner Janis Joplin run all over backbeat country soul to wickedly catchy effect. Drawing from two clear influences, Ray LaMontagne and Van Morrison, the band offers a sweetly swaying backporch shuffle on "Fell Into Place." In other words, feel free to put the feet up and find something to sip. The music does all the work for you – songcraft as it was originally intended.

Oddly, it's the single "Two Wine Glasses" that turns out to be the weak point of the album. An obvious storyline (wine + just the two of us = intrigue) powering a radio-ready repetitive riff comes up a bit flat, as if the group forgot about the looseness that made the rest of the session click.

It should also be noted that Bettencourt is a professional about his work. He has cultivated a following worthy of the imminent "Next Step" simply by keeping his nose to the grindstone. While the plight of a young musician is surely a harrowing one in these days and times, Bettencourt has protected himself from an uncertain future the best way he knows how – by writing irresistible, powerhouse records.

Mike Olcott is a freelance writer who lives in Portland. - Portland Press Hearld

William Earl

On Portland-based Eric Bettencourt's great debut disc "Fine Old World," the singer/guitarist mines through dozens of influences to develop the perfect sound. Perhaps it is easy to be hypnotized by Bettencourt's endearing joyousness, but it is not a stretch to call this album brilliant.

Opener "Fine Old World Pt. 1," sounds like a frolic through a jam pop iPod: shades of David Gray's electronic samples, Phish's songwriting and Dave Matthews-style hippie lyricism pepper this tale of being unable to "run from the people that we are."

Bettencourt certainly knows how to express himself, owning a sandpapered voice which recalls Blind Melon's tragically hip frontman Shannon Hoon. While lesser singers would not be able to wrangle such a distinctly ragged tone, Bettencourt nails the harmonies he explores.

Of course, this vocal strength could result from melodies which evoke familiarity while still being creative. Disc standout "Delaney" is so upbeat that believers will begin to sing along even before they know all of the words. Despite its pop hook, Bettencourt also works many complex elements into the song: breezy runs, a hyper-melodic bass line and a tricky transition from featherweight verse to meaty refrain.

Musical highlights hit from every direction through this album. With heavy keys, horns and politically-charged lyrics, the bouncy "Uniform" is a hair away from Rustic Overtones. Great vocal work puts punch into "The Plan," inventive guitars carry "Sweet Elise," and wisps of piano waltz through "Just Walk Away."

Surprisingly, the album's biggest throwaway is the Ray LaMontagne-penned, "I Wish I Could Change Your Mind." Coming off as merely a half-assed blues attempt (albeit with a great guitar solo), it is as bizarre to have a skeletal song in the middle of such an ambitious record as it is to not be impressed with LaMontagne's work. Yet within "Fine Old World's" context, this anomaly makes more sense when understanding that Bettencourt, who plays the majority of the non-percussive instruments on the LP, is best when he has total control.

Honestly, there are too many superlatives which should be pegged to this great piece of work than could be printed in such a short review (but you can hear for yourself at the CD release party on Jan. 10 at the Big Easy). Just go buy it - it's cheaper than a movie and lasts a whole lot longer. Ultimately, it would be best to leave Bettencourt with a piece of his own advice from the appropriately-named final track, "It's Over" - "Don't stop growing/You have come so far."

Maine native Bill Earl is a musician and a music writer. He's currently living in Boston but has his ears on Maine-made music.

- The Maine Switch

William Earl

On Portland-based Eric Bettencourt's great debut disc "Fine Old World," the singer/guitarist mines through dozens of influences to develop the perfect sound. Perhaps it is easy to be hypnotized by Bettencourt's endearing joyousness, but it is not a stretch to call this album brilliant.

Opener "Fine Old World Pt. 1," sounds like a frolic through a jam pop iPod: shades of David Gray's electronic samples, Phish's songwriting and Dave Matthews-style hippie lyricism pepper this tale of being unable to "run from the people that we are."

Bettencourt certainly knows how to express himself, owning a sandpapered voice which recalls Blind Melon's tragically hip frontman Shannon Hoon. While lesser singers would not be able to wrangle such a distinctly ragged tone, Bettencourt nails the harmonies he explores.

Of course, this vocal strength could result from melodies which evoke familiarity while still being creative. Disc standout "Delaney" is so upbeat that believers will begin to sing along even before they know all of the words. Despite its pop hook, Bettencourt also works many complex elements into the song: breezy runs, a hyper-melodic bass line and a tricky transition from featherweight verse to meaty refrain.

Musical highlights hit from every direction through this album. With heavy keys, horns and politically-charged lyrics, the bouncy "Uniform" is a hair away from Rustic Overtones. Great vocal work puts punch into "The Plan," inventive guitars carry "Sweet Elise," and wisps of piano waltz through "Just Walk Away."

Surprisingly, the album's biggest throwaway is the Ray LaMontagne-penned, "I Wish I Could Change Your Mind." Coming off as merely a half-assed blues attempt (albeit with a great guitar solo), it is as bizarre to have a skeletal song in the middle of such an ambitious record as it is to not be impressed with LaMontagne's work. Yet within "Fine Old World's" context, this anomaly makes more sense when understanding that Bettencourt, who plays the majority of the non-percussive instruments on the LP, is best when he has total control.

Honestly, there are too many superlatives which should be pegged to this great piece of work than could be printed in such a short review (but you can hear for yourself at the CD release party on Jan. 10 at the Big Easy). Just go buy it - it's cheaper than a movie and lasts a whole lot longer. Ultimately, it would be best to leave Bettencourt with a piece of his own advice from the appropriately-named final track, "It's Over" - "Don't stop growing/You have come so far."

Maine native Bill Earl is a musician and a music writer. He's currently living in Boston but has his ears on Maine-made music.

- The Maine Switch