Just because nothing on banjo/guitar master
Tony Furtado's 14th album couldn't have been included on his last half dozen doesn't make it any less enjoyable or edgy.
Deep Water is another predominantly low-key yet never easygoing set of ballads and midtempo folk-rockers, with an emphasis on folk. The tracks are a little shorter and tighter this time, yet nonetheless sizzle like a dry fuse threatening to detonate its bomb. Most never do -- however, the anticipation creates tension that fuels this darkly tuneful music. Vocals aren't
Furtado's strong suit, yet he sounds loose and comfortable, applying his dusky, five-o'clock-shadow voice to songs that make the most of his less-is-more singing and deceptively intricate guitar and banjo work. He has gradually shifted away from the obvious
Ry Cooder-isms that informed previous sets.
Furtado continues to use his slide as coloring on the lovely "Every Little Crack" and the easy picking of "Tongue Tied," sounding somewhat like
David Lindley on early
Jackson Browne releases. Producer/multi-instrumentalist
Sean Slade, who contributes keyboards, bass, and (tasteful) drum loops in addition to very occasional tenor sax and alto clarinet, keeps the sound spacious and inviting, even when the skies cloud over and threaten storms. A few understated rockers such as "Raise 'Em Up" lift the energy without sounding a bit out of place on an album that sets its mood early with the banjo/guitar instrumental "The Bawd of Euphony" (the title comes from a
Wallace Stevens poem) and hangs onto it with charm and grace.
Furtado's lyrics generally concern vaguely spiritual concepts of life, love, and mortality without getting preachy, and the melodies are strong enough to nearly obscure his phenomenal instrumental prowess. Drizzles of
Furtado's bluegrass past remain. Still, it's blues, folk, and a touch of new age that dominate, making this music shimmer with richly muted beauty.
Deep Water is a disc for a rainy day, although one that knows a sunny horizon lies just around the bend.