Chris Smither at Whelan’s, 17th of November 2013

Why do critics call his music cynical? Miami-born blues man Chris Smither wonders aloud from his wooden chair on the Whelan’s stage. Hopeful, that’s the word he uses himself to describe his songs, and to watch him as he sings those Delta blues numbers of his you’d be a fool to believe otherwise. Blues music has always focused on the less happy moments of life, but this was not because blues singers were cynical, it was because singing about hardships turns them into something comprehensible, even beautiful at times. If you see or feel an injustice you either wallow in self-pity or you sing it from the stage. Smither does the latter.

The songs we hear this evening reveal the creative touch of a particularly sane man, whose logic and humour are like a less politicised Woody Guthrie. This logic is particularly evident when he sings a cover of madcap surrealist Bob Dylan’s Desolation Row and switches some of the lines around so that Shakespeare’s Romeo appears in the same verse as Shakespeare’s Ophelia. The Guthrieness comes through on Origin of Species where his representation of Darwin is not unlike that of the eponymous character in the Oklahoman’s Pretty Boy Floyd (not that Darwin gets any sort of unjust glorification).

Surprise, Surprise manages to adapt the kind of state-of-the-nation lyricism Guthrie thrived on with a simple poetry and a convincing delivery so that even bank-talk, one of modern “message music’s” most cringe-worthy of topics, is dealt with effectively and humorously. It’s also no surprise that along with “cynical” Smither gets confronted – downright berated – with the term “philosophical”. Indeed you do need the kind of concentration necessary for novel-reading to catch everything he’s trying to get at, something we’re not quite as used to now as perhaps the audiences of years past would have been.

But even if attention-span is an issue with you the melodic sounds of Smither’s guitar are at least half the appeal. His style is heavily indebted to the flowing bass-heavy rhythms of Mississippi John Hurt and to see him play live is to understand why musical instruments are considered extensions of the soul. He effortlessly taps out the bass on the low strings while going off on seemingly wild but actually completely understated blues solos on the high strings, and he does it with a magician’s sleight of hand, waving softly over the strings rather than actually striking them. The little finger on his left hand is an entity unto itself, leaping off with a strength and reach from the rest of the hand that you’d hardly believe possible. It prompts you to use the phrase “Chris Smither; he has more talent in his little finger than so-and-so has in his entire body”, especially effective considering there are many artists alive right now for whom that comparison with Smither would be literally true.

The gig is never less than enjoyable but several times it goes beyond its simple set-up, when the guitar and Smither’s thumping left foot and voice rise together out of the calm flowing melodies like a wave. His Hundred Dollar Valentine contains such a moment, and he gets his guitar’s high notes to sing out a response to his “but I just can’t take it no more”. After a well-deserved ovation he plays an equally brilliant rendition of Blind Willie McTell’s Statesboro Blues and you realise that even though Smither wasn’t there at the beginning – when the Delta blues sprung forth from the earth like some sort of divine musical apparition – he wasn’t born of their inspiration but he certainly caught a glimpse of it.

Chris Smither Photo Gallery

Photos: Aisling Finn