Graham Weber and the bad luck shadows

http://www.thisistexasmusic.com/reviews/beggarsblues.html

Graham Weber,
Beggar's Blues

Label: (self-released)
Released: 2005

(4 out of 5)

Graham Weber is a young man with an old soul. He brings a poetic stoicism to tales of death, despair, devotion, and so much more on Beggar's Blues, his second album and first since moving to Texas from his native Midwest.

Weber is a rich lyricist who furthers the progression of contemporary folk-based artists like Adam Carroll, Todd Snider, and Slaid Cleaves.

Each song is a graceful composition in verse: It's a beautiful Sunday in lower Manhattan / And I'm hoping that one day / These pains fade away / They won't serve bloody Mary's till twelve hours till Monday / So I'm shakin' and waitin' / On Avenue A (from "Avenue A"—listen).

He possesses a Dylanesque ability to craft densely packed lyrics, yet make their low-fi delivery seem natural and effortless, as on "After All" (listen) and "Crackin' Up" (listen).

While gloom suffuses Beggar's Blues, Weber also is capable of producing more whimsical songs—like "Love and Money" (listen), which playfully explores the mismatched desires, and "Stars and Circles" (listen), which toys with fads and consumerism.

Weber is a relative newcomer to Texas, yet he already has established a number of fruitful friendships. Carroll (harmonica), Jeff Plankenhorn (dobro), Lloyd Maines (pedal steel), and Daniel Makins (drums) are among the central Texas musicians who lend their talents.

Beggar's Blues is a hauntingly beautiful work of raw artistry and rich talent. Weber certainly is a welcome addition to the Texas scene.

(Note: You may purchase Beggar's Blues at Graham Weber's live shows. It soon will be available from CD Baby, which currently carries Weber's debut, Naive Melodies.)

October 1, 2005
- This is Texas Music

Winter 2008/issue 33

"Favorably compare a young songwriter to Dylan, and you might as well slap a "kick me" sign on his back. So I'll spare Austin's Graham Weber that albatross, but he's gonna have to live with the next-best-thing-to-Jeff-Tweedy tag. "Please stop me if you've heard this one," the Ohio-native sings at the outset of his third album, and damned if "Snow in July" doesn't sound like it coulda been a standout track on Wilco's 1995 debut, A.M. --- right down to the lazy charm of Weber’s Midwestern drawl. Ditto “Candle’s So Close” and “After the Boulevard”, which find Weber and a crack studio crew (anchored by producer/guitarist Leatherbag) capturing the same loose-limbed Flying Burrito Brothers/Exile-era Stones vibe that Wilco nailed on Being There. Those three tracks open The Door To The Morning with a bang, but as shown on his last outing, 2005’s terrific Beggar’s Blues, Weber is at his absolute best when he settles into the languid, twilit beauty of more meditative fare like “End of the Fall” and “Kings Highway.” Granted, even then he still sounds an awful lot like Tweedy, but the poet’s voice at the heart of the songs is unmistakably Weber’s own.” -Richard Skanse

Winter 2009/ issue 37

The Year In Recordings
Our Picks for the best Texas albums of 2008

"The first half of Weber's third album is merely very good; the second half, though, is downright devastating. He folds sadness, longing and regret into beauty like poetic origami." - Texas Music Magazine

By Bob Ruggiero
Published on March 23, 2006

In this country, we're facing a population explosion that's verging on a crisis of catastrophic proportions. An overabundance that threatens to rip apart the very fabric of civilization as we know it! I speak, of course, of musicians whose breathless bios utter the phrase "Austin-based Americana singer-songwriter." But wait! Out of the pack of mindless clones name-checking Townes Van Zandt comes Graham Weber, whose talents both in front of the blank page and on the stage are actually real. His sophomore CD, Beggar's Blues, shows him as a first-rate songwriter, with equal parts Freewheelin'-era Dylan-esque dense wordplay and Lyle Lovett-esque sonic portraits of desperate lovers, wistful drunks and dead friends. Alternatively witty and bouncy ("Love and Money," "Stars and Circles") and deep ("Cincinnati," "Avenue A"), this 25-year-old Austinite (via Kent, Ohio) is more than a cut above the rest of the souls crowding the Cactus Cafe's open-mike nights. Which isn't surprising when you find his mentor is the similarly gifted Slaid Cleaves. With Weber's rich voice and deft acoustic strumming, along with a rotating lineup of backup musicians, Beggar's Blues is a pleasant surprise that also repays concentration and repeated listening. A true talent on the ascent.
- Houston Press

Graham Weber is a Cincinnati native, at least by Cincinnati standards -- he went to high school here, which is, of course, 80 percent of your identity in the QC. Fortunately, the rest of the world will remember the young balladeer for what happened after his Lakota West graduation. His first move was to Kent State University. Initially torn between acting and songwriting, he followed his heart to L.A., where it was summarily trampled. Upon returning to Kent, he joined Roger Hoover's Whiskeyhounds, polishing his showmanship with the acclaimed Americana band. Weber finally made his solo debut in 2003 with Naive Melodies, a sparse but moving collection of haunting Folk tunes. Inspired by its success, he made a gutsy move, diving into the biggest singer/songwriter pond of all: Austin, Tex.

"The scene is very competitive, but I knew that going in," Weber says. "And I've done much better than I could have imagined. It's the place to be for Americana, and the city has taken me in with open arms."

If proof of his naturalization is required, it's contained on his brand new disc, Beggar´s Blues. Backed by a who's who of Texan sidemen, he hits very close to the mark made by his Austin mentor, Slaid Cleaves. Like him, Weber's Folk/Country hybrid is an inviting mix of the familiar and the unexpected. He hopes this album "will lay the foundation for a few different records I'm getting ready to make when the time is right." This recursive inclination might lead him into the footsteps of forebears like Bob Dylan and John Prine, artists who eluded pigeonholing with an ever-evolving approach. For now, has his sights set on a simpler goal: a homecoming.

"I haven't been back since I moved to Austin," he says, "but I'm planning to really focus on this area 'cause it's home and I've got a good fan base here." Weber has three local appearances this week: Wednesday at the Southgate House, Saturday at Parrish Auditorium (at the Hamilton branch of Miami University) and Sunday at Leo Coffeehouse. (Ezra Waller) - City Beat

Graham Weber,
The Door to the Morning
March 21, 2008
Label: self-released
Released: 2008


(4 out of 5)

I've yet to take a friend to a Graham Weber show and have them come away anything short of impressed. While I've managed to secure a few converts, The Door to the Morning should help flesh out the ranks of followers well beyond what's possible from this one believer.

Weber's third album and second since landing in Texas features ten songs so beautifully bracing they must have wrung the emotion out of their creator. Case in point: "Italian Lullaby," with lyrics so perfect it's better to just share a selection than to sully with a clumsy summary:

Just keep me high and I won't dwell on all the wrong I've done
And I will lie through my half-open eyes
I'm a shame to love…
But I once knew a girl who broke my neck by walking in a room
She looked just like you
Back when you looked at me with different eyes
And we fell asleep to an Italian lullaby
There's plenty more where that came from. For example, "End of the Fall":

God I wish I could go back and gather the ashes I gave
I scattered on stage
When I used to be brave
Now I curl up like a child stuck in a womb
In a pitch black room
Can't go on without you so I'll take my tears to my tomb…
I'm tired of hiding and biting my nails till they bleed
Could you come by to see
And help me to breathe
I could keep pulling quotes from each and every song, but there's more to an album than just lyrics of course. The music here is livelier than on 2005's Beggar's Blues thanks to producer Leatherbag, who also contributes electric guiar as part of a strong supporting cast that includes Eleanor Whitmore (violin), Todd Pertll (pedal steel), and Matthew Mollica (Hammond B3).

Now "lively" and "Graham Weber" may seem incompatible to those of you familiar with his adorably reticent stage presence. But there's a jaunty Wilco-esque kick to "Snow in July" and "After the Boulevard," not to mention a Guy and Susanna Clark vibe with Graham and wife Michelle on "Candle's So Close."

At his Cactus Cafe CD release show, Weber promised he was working on more upbeat material to reflect a growing contentment with adult life. I wouldn't anticipate a happy-faced transformation anytime soon. After all, heartbreak and despair are essential to folk music. But it's good to see Weber pushing his craft in new directions that can only help broaden his appeal.

Listen: "Snow in July", "Candle's So Close", "Italian Lullaby", "End of the Fall", "King's Highway"

Buy: iTunes, CD Baby

- This is Texas Music

by Doug Freeman

Graham Weber
The Door to the Morning

If Graham Weber's sophomore album, Beggars Blues, bowed to acoustic Dylan, his third rises with purpose. Door offers some of Weber's finest songwriting but also a jolt to the arrangements courtesy of Leatherbag's production, hand-claps, and Hammond organ punching up the rolling optimism of opener "Snow in July" and a propulsive rhythm rocking the Tom Petty-esque "After the Boulevard." Yet Weber's voice remains languorous with a restrained, nasal drawl, "Candle's So Close" waxing toward John Prine and a familiar Jeff Tweedy disillusion slowly taking hold of the album. Romances spark and fade, through the beautiful desperation of "Italian Lullaby" into the bitter strokes of "Bite Your Tongue." The backside works through a crushing despair in fairground lights flashing desolate, the titular entryway to the morning never opened, and culminates in the ultimate resignation of "Nevermind." "Hearts break every day," Weber sighs on "Field of Marigolds." True, but rarely are they voiced with such purpose. - Austin Chronicle

By John Michael Cassetta • Feb 4th, 2008 • Category: Sound Reviews •

My record collection consists primarily of 3 tiers which, from bottom to top, can be described as: “Mistakes,” “General Music,” and “Go-To Records.” Aside from paralleling nicely the women in my life, this system allows for a neat and organized way of choosing albums best suited to make the long drives of our expansive Texas landscape seem less lonely. As any serious collector or appreciator of music knows, the requirements for that top tier are nearly indefinable - more a feeling hidden somewhere deep behind the musical merits of an album than anything else. The Door To The Morning, as you may have already guessed, meets those exceptionally personal requirements. As anyone who’s driven the relentlessly open land between Austin and just about anywhere knows, finding another record for that top shelf is as welcomed as a Whataburger in the dead middle of absolute nowhere.

Before settling in Austin for 2005’s Beggar’s Blues, Weber, like most singer-songwriter types, criss-crossed the country, traveling from his midwest home westward to the Pacific and back in the pursuit of love and music, eventually recording his debut Naive Melodies. Though the past few years have seen him physically rooted in Austin, his music has yet to suffer the same fate; where Beggar’s Blues might have been billed as “Graham Weber and Americana-Themed Accompaniment”, The Door To The Morning showcases an evolution to a more complete sound, at least partially due to Leatherbag’s production credit. The instrumentation pushes and pulls on Weber’s vocals and acoustic guitar, audibly driving the emotional tension and transformation in Weber’s lyrics.

It’s no surprise, then, that the evolution characterizing Weber’s life and music is also a central theme to his lyrics. In the album’s opener, “Snow in July,” Weber looks forward, “Don’t worry it’s almost winter,” though certainly not without nostalgia for the past, which manifests itself as one of the most thoughtful lyrics on the album: “There’s a picture in my mother’s house, reads the way it did when I was younger,” he sings, “It’s funny, it’s funny how, I don’t recognize that fella now.” The instrumentation is energetic but laid-back, the bright piano and organ filling the hollowness of Weber’s voice like the warmth of a summer’s day (minus the snow, of course).

As the album continues, we see the themes of transformation and evolution further explored; “Candle’s So Close” invites us into “a long dark tunnel” that is to be the journey through The Door To The Morning. The energy of “After the Boulevard” matches that of the opener (Eleanor Whitmore’s violin takes a more prominent role here), but only to hide the darker admissions lurking in Weber’s lyrics. “Killed your only lover, from the inside out.” It’s hard to tell if his second-person perspective is chosen to emphasize the universality of his feelings or, more simply, to avoid admitting his own role as “killer.” Either is equally chilling.

Now, while I’ve never admitted this publicly, there was a time where my formula for judging new albums consisted of summing the parts directly influenced by Jeff Tweedy, the more the better. Childish as this method was (and too often still is?), Weber would’ve made the grades. Even the Bob Dylan comparisons seem justified in “Italian Lullaby,” both in vocal tone and cryptic, symbolic lyrics (there are far too many lines worth mentioning in these songs, and I’ll make all attempts to accurately represent the ones that matter most, or at least to me). The album’s sound, especially in this middle expanse, draws heavily on these and other influences, seemingly improving on everything I wished each of those influences did better. For example, his voice is far more approachable than Dylan’s, and he’s willing to prove his capabilities as a singer without sacrificing the edgy growl of his low register. Then “End of The Fall” conjures up the same openness, or perhaps emptiness, of the more experimental tracks on Being There (think “Sunken Treasure”), but never attempts to lose the listener, finding in itself instead longing harmonies “at a time when I prided myself on a bullet-proof grin.”

Following with the seasonal changes depicted on the album, “Field of Marigolds” welcomes Springtime with soothing imagery in probably the 200th solid lyric on the album (if anybody’s counting): “out past the spotlight of the fair grounds, out of range of the echoed auctioneers, there’s a pageant winner waiting for a tango, with a yellow blossom tucked behind her ear.” Both lyrically and musically, the song shines like the album I wish the Jayhawks’ Rainy Day Music had been - less perfection, more emotion. Completing the transformation are the introspective “King’s Highway” and then “Nevermind,” which poses the question infinitely inherent to Love: “If I owned up to my actions, would you ask me to get packin’, or smack me in the mouth and take me home?” It’s nice to know Weber has no better answer to offer than you or I.

Change, and the pain that accompanies it, may be the driving force behind the album, but it hides a more simple, barbaric quality: the mere connection of one human being to another. The connection of Weber to the characters of his past is present, yes; but more important is the connection between Weber and the listener, the connection that gives the music warmth, the same all too often simulated by a bottle of whiskey, that can only be realized in personal connection, in this case through music. Which might come close to explaining why we take music on long car trips, and why we can’t properly define what draws us to “those” albums. Either way, the connection is the responsibility of both the artist and listener, and Weber has most certainly fulfilled his part. - BigDiction.net