Jenee Halstead: Press

“I felt the fear fade away”

With THE RIVER GRACE Jenee Halsteed (34) gave us one of the most beautiful Americana records of the past year. Recently the not-so-famous American traveled through Holland. From Delfzijl to Bergen op Zoom and from Heerlen to Spijkerboor she performed in all kinds of bars and venues. “It’s hard to perform for people who don’t especially come to see you.”

by Eric van Domburg Scipio

Small and delicate, with a fun and fresh look - cute but not sugary. That is Jenee Halstead. She grew up in Spokane, Washington, in the Northwest of the United States, where her love for music was a big part of her upbringing. “My father was a huge fan. At home music was always on. From James Brown, Bob Dylan, Moby Grape to obscure acid rock and garage rock from the sixties.” The soundtrack of O Brother, Where Art Thou? with Gillian Welch, Alison Krauss and Emmylou Harris awakened her interest for country and especially bluegrass. Patty Griffin, however, was the one who inspired her to make music herself. “The story goes that everyone who heard the first album of the Velvet Underground started their own band.” Something similar happened to her after hearing Living With Ghosts by Patty Griffin. “That album led to a new wave of female singer-songwriters. One of them was me.”

“It’s better to just rely on myself”

Discovery

In the late nineties Jenee Halstead settled in Seattle where she did not succeed in building a career as a singer-songwriter. “There where several places to perform and the audience was not unfriendly towards me. But I mainly performed country classics and a few Alison Krauss songs because I was simply too shy to sing my own songs.” Heavily influenced by Joni Mitchell and Nick Drake, Jenee saw herself primarily as a folk artist. This was one of the reasons her decision to move to the East Coast seemed like a good one, because for decades Boston has been considered the American epicenter of folk. In Cambridge, manager Matt Smith from the legendary Club Passim (previously known as Club 47) was impressed by Halstead. He quickly informed Evan Brubaker, a producer from Seattle, who instantly offered his services to Halstead. “He didn’t know who I was, but I knew him. An accomplished and creative person, so I had no second thoughts about working with him.”

Accompanied by an acoustic guitar, dobro, mandolin, bass, keyboards, and an electronic percussion Halstead took eleven days to record The River Grace. “Over the years I had written many songs. Half in the vein of Nick Drake, the other half more country and bluegrass. Together with Evans’ wife, singer-songwriter Megan Peters, I critically studied the whole bunch. That resulted in a nice selection of which I am very proud.”

The River Grace tends towards folk and bluegrass. The recently released mini-album Hollow Bones has a noticeable roots sound with clear country influences. The small but powerfully-voiced Halstead keeps her music, in the words of the Club Passim Manager, “fresh and new, yet familiar and timeless”.

Agony

For the debut of a relatively young singer-songwriter The River Grace surprisingly contains many songs in which death plays a role. Even more remarkable is that the death on the album doesn’t have a morbid purpose, but is presented in the light of salvation. Jenee Halstead crawls into the shoes of fictional characters that face the hurt and anger of troubled outcasts. Consequently, they are more likely to die young, which gives Halstead the opportunity to deal with her own fear of death. “It’s not that I want all my main characters to die, but sometimes you have no choice of how some things end.”


Achievement

Not many people have come to the double bill of Jenee Halstead and Joe Iadanza in Cafe de Rode Pimpernel in Den Bosch. Moreover, both singer-songwriters have to deal with the regular customers in the bar, where smoking is not yet banned. However, partially due to her charming presentation Halstead wins the audience over, though is seems to go wrong towards the end when someone requests a song, and she is then overwhelmed with requests she doesn’t know - ‘play something by Ben Harper’. But, after she improvises Jolene, a Dolly Parton classic, the night cannot go wrong.

How good her performance is doesn’t become clear until the set of Iadanza (who brings Cat Stevens to mind). With a few catchy songs the New Yorker almost gets the whole bar to sing at the start of his performance, but along the way the ordinary songs can’t hold the audiences attention, causing his performance to diminish. A week later in Culturhuis Patronaat in Heerlen, Iadanza gets the sad news that his grandfather has passed and he suddenly has to go back home. “It was very sad even though, in a way, it turned out to be good for me,” Halstead says. “Until then, he took care of almost everything – from the transportation to the contact with the bars. Now I have to take care of everything on my own”.

Conviction

Joe Iadanza is not yet on the plane to New York when the European air space is closed because of Icelandic ash clouds, making it impossible for other artists to reach the Netherlands. For Halstead only Café Briljant in Haarlem and Vestzaktheater the Zwijnshoofd in Bergen op Zoom are left on her tour schedule, but now singer-songwriters can’t make it to the Netherlands, and she is asked to perform in The Stables in Boskoop and at Taverne De Waag in Haarlem. The latter situation is quite delicate because, when planning her tour, De Waag wasn’t interested in Halstead at all. However, after her convincing performance the manager personally admitted his mistake and emphasized that the doors will always be wide open for Halstead.

A few days later at a mini-festival in Bergen op Zoom, hosted by Crossroads Radio, English folkie Emma Black and American Steve Noonan – an old friend of Jackson Browne – cannot stand in her shadow. The highlight of the set is Nick Drake, her beautifully and intensely sung tribute to the British melancholic who died almost forty years ago. Without naming him or even giving a musical hint, she captures his essence in heart-rending lines such as How do you dance all night? When your heart won’t feel the rhythm, your feet won’t take to flight. How do you put meaning into something that is not there? I am so lonely now, so lonely now, I just don’t care.

The EP Hollow Bones is Boston-based Jenee Halstead's sophomore release, following her debut full-length The River Grace. Her exquisite alto serves her equally well, delivering silky-smooth ballads, or belting out country blues. The title song, Hollow Bones, is Halstead at her best. A glowing, bittersweet country waltz that drools emotion. The kind of song that often gets over-produced in the studio, but Halstead keeps the crew in line, giving us a mellow arrangement with the right mix of instruments (soft percussion, bass, acoustic and electric guitar, pedal steel, and the wonderful and mysterious male vocals). The sublimely graceful ballad, Drunkard's Lullaby, from The River Grace album, is told with just a bit of country twang with nice acoustic backup. It's a lament told with the keen observations that only an experienced writer comes by. This is rich songwriting; modern originals that shake off the cliches, next to stories that evoke another time and stay true to tradition. A nice package from a very talented singer-songwriter who deserves a larger audience. Friends David Wax and Tom Combs assisted on some of the writing and I bet one of them are doing the background vocals.

In April Jenee Halstead and our friend, Joe Iadanza are heading to the Netherlands for three weeks. Check out our preview post for Iadanza's soon-to-be released album, All In Good Time.

After her excellent 2008 debut album The River Grace, rising roots singer-songwriter Jenee Halstead treats us to a fine new EP called Hollow Bones. Where The River Grace cut a fine line between folk and Americana, Hollow Bones opts for a more countrified approach, with five charming songs in a diversity of country styles, ranging from pure country (Damascus) via country-swing (Good Lookin’ Boy) and country-noir (La Luna Roja) to country-blues (Banks Of The Mississippi). Best of all though is the melancholy title song, whose style harks back most to the kind of material found on The River Grace. With her wonderful singing voice, displaying grace and emotion in equal measure, any song Halstead tackles seems immediately blessed and although the EP, because of the variety, is more a showcase for her talents (and those of the excellent musicians accompanying her) than the coherent statement The River Grace cd was, her beguiling lyrics and melodies still underline that precious few singer-songwriters are able to conjure up the sort of magic Jenee Halstead displays here with almost every song.
***1/2 Pieter Wijnstekers

The amazing power of an arresting voice and simple instrumentation knows no limits. Throughout the annals of music history there is a laundry list of inspired, folk-poets who seem to have an inherent and incurable ability to weave spirited stories through just a voice, an acoustic guitar and deft instrumentation. Boston-based singer/songwriter Jenee Halstead has that aura of legacy on her debut record The River Grace. Raised in the Inland Empire of the Pacific Northwest, Halstead moved to Boston in the mid 90s in an effort to flee a wrecked romance and to join the ranks of the city's vaulted singer/songwriter/folk scene.

The musical landscape of The River Grace is muted, tame and calm. Don't expect anything flashy or uplifting. Everything is delicate, balanced and intricate. The album opens with the introspective "Before I Go," and establishes the mood from the very start. As an opener it's not entirely inspiring but rather dark and hollow and sets the course for the imminent adventure, which is both bumpy and unfailingly honest. Second track "Deep Dark Sea," is the kind of song whose simple audacity can reverberate around rooms and penetrate hearts for days. When she sings, "March out of the water, rowing oars that heave and falter, giving into the crash of a wave, seals to serenade the brightly beating wings of a seagulls’ parade, if anyone asks me, this is where I’ll be," it's hard to turn away or not pay attention.

More to it than that, the song seems to come from a place that reveals the story may indeed be based on fact. There's a guttural pull and lure that seems too hard to fake. Title track "The River Grace," seems to go after the same things as its predecessor but in a slightly more inspired manner. "Nick Drake," never once mentions the ill-fated British singer/songwriter, but the song's steely chilliness resounds with the trappings of his craft, most especially when she sings, ""How do you dance all night, when your heart won't feel the rhythm, your feet won't take to flight? "How do you put meaning into something that is not there? I'm so lonely now I just don't care."

Easily the album's best song, "Darkest Day," is a daring, percipient and unconquerable murder ballad that penetrates, probes and pushes the listener to feel tenderness and sincerity despite the protagonist's undeniable transgressions. Hard to argue with lyrics like, "We were drunk and high, doing 95 past a cop, so blown we didn’t see, by the time the chase was underway, one had turned to three, you met my eye, patted your 45 and said they ain't never gonna get me." Building on that sense of disappointment is the forlorn "Drunkard's Lullabye," in which a farmer's wife concedes that despite his weaknesses, her husband is still her man, "I married you, cause you're a good man, but the devil has his eye on you." She follows that up with "Dusty Rose," a Texas-inspired country song that has the same kind of magnetism of June Carter Cash, and in some ways even hearkens back to Depression-era balladry.

"Reach Up," features the same kind of bittersweet optimism as that of Dave Matthew's "Gravedigger," as she sings, "Reach up to the sky, so you know how heaven feels, when you die." The song's stark tone is comparable to the album's earlier songs and doesn't do much in the way of orchestration, but sure does pack an emotional wallop. The album's final two tracks, "Skipping Stones," and "St. Peter," offer the listener two wholly different sentiments and reveal the kind of power this simple disc has. On "Stones," Halstead sings of optimism and inner tenacity despite the mountainous obstacles that can often stand in the way, "One skip for the hardship, two skips for the troubles, three skips for the worries, four skips and their gone." On "Saint Peter," she sings of accepting a lover's fate and discerning the true err of his ways, "Are you soon expecting to greet the dead? With a hole in your heart and thorns on your head."

In just ten songs, Halstead manages to say and do so much, in ways few other artists can. Her spirit and her voice reveal a singer/songwriter who seems to have been around the block many times before and has both a voice and stories that are wise beyond her years. These are the kind of songs that send artists to legendary status and place themselves in museums. That this is just her debut is remarkable. Her tender alto has the same tenderness and sensitivity that folk stalwarts Patty Griffin, Emmylou Harris and Shawn Colvin have worn to prominence and that future seems almost certain for Halstead. Though the album was released in the spring of 2008, Halstead is still touring in support of the album and it's a disc that certainly demands wider acclaim. Already at work on an EP due out later this year, Halstead is also at work with the Boston-based band The Broken Blossoms.

Producer Evan Brubaker, who founded Seattle's Cake Records is a talented musician, who has a great ear for talent and seems to know what to do behind the knobs. The few touches he puts on the album are very akin to the simple elegance lauded producer Rick Rubin often puts on his singer/songwriter projects. The songs on The River Grace are atmospheric, incisive, perceptive and timeless. He doesn't add any bells and whistles, instead he lets Halstead sing her songs and tell her stories, and man is it something. For all intents and purposes, The River Grace is a poor man's Wrecking Ball, an album as good as Patty Griffin's Living With Ghosts, and as transcendent as Dar William's The Honesty Room. Spellbinding and seductive, The River Grace is an album that understands the human condition and recognizes the inherent frailty in all of us. If only all albums could do such things.

Folky Americana at it’s best.
For a self-released album to reach the pages of Heaven Magazine, it has to bring something you don’t hear so quickly on other cd’s. In the case of The River Grace, the debut album by the American singer-songwriter Jenee Halstead, it’s a combination of exceptional songs, great singing (angel-like and yet rootsy), exquisite instrumentation and a unique style, all Halstead’s own, somewhere between folk, pop, country and gospel. Housed in a beautiful digipack, it makes The River Grace one of the best Americana albums of 2008, a fact that opened itself up to me when I had marked half of the ten songs for ripping onto my computer the first time I heard the cd. It’s a tally which I seldom reach and is even put into more perspective when I note that such moving songs as Nick Drake and St. Peter weren’t even included. Subtly instrumented, with such rootsy instruments as dobro, pedal steel and mandolin, next to acoustical instruments like guitar, piano and upright bass, The River Grace is a cd that not only will enthrall lovers of rootsy singer-songwriters, but also appeal to fans of wonderful instrumental craft. Having said that, we already can’t wait for Jenee’s next album, as this goes way beyond being promising.

A strong debut from the (other) Cambridge folk scene.

Jenee Halstead has sprung from Harvard Square’s Club Passim, in Cambridge Massachusetts, the same fertile ground that has in the recent past set Josh Ritter and Lori McKenna on their way to bigger things. Jenee has a pretty, but fairly traditional sounding voice not dissimilar to Emmylou, like Joni but with fewer acrobatics, she also has an element of vulnerability in her singing that makes her believable, emotionally affecting and very listenable.

The instrumentation on the record is a successful combination of traditional (mandolin, dobro, guitars, pedal steel etc. etc.) and elements of 21st century derivation, the latter being some electronica blips and modern beats here and there. ‘Deep Dark Sea’ for example, has a folk styled vocal over what these days qualifies as a ‘chill out’ backing. The title track is more traditional, leaning towards country, but again beautifully sung. ‘Darkest Day’ is a story song along the lines of Beth Orton’s ‘Stolen Car’, or Tracy Chapman’s ‘Fast Car’, sample lyric -‘We were drunk and high, doing 95 past a cop, so blown we didn’t see, by the time the chase was underway, one had turned to three, you met my eye, patted your 45 and said they aint never gonna get me’, now that’s some proper grown up writing, not dissimilar to Lori McKenna either.

Calling a song ‘Nick Drake’ is obviously a bit of a giveaway, like the Replacements calling a song ‘Alex Chilton’, you know where this is going, having said that, the song evokes Nick Drake without sounding exactly like him, though understandably the fact that it’s a female vocal does deflect. This is a very strong debut, from an artist with a clear and obvious talent, great voice, and strong songs, everything is in place, but as ever, finding an undoubtedly deserved larger audience is the tricky part.

Firmly yet buoyantly set against dark hollow melodies and a strong Emmylou vibe, The River Grace reveals Jenee Halstead as a keenly observant and focused singer/songwriter performer to listen and watch for.

Blending backwoods instrumentation with Boston beats and a tenacious and tender alto, Halstead's songs reverberate through the hills and the heart. Serving as the disc's emotional core are the daring modern day murder ballad Darkest Day; Drunkard's Lullabye ("I married you 'cos you're a good man/But the devil has his eye on you") and Dusty Rose (easily one of the best country songs of late). But it is the title track, Reach Up and the quietly resonant Skipping Stones that fully displays a spirit and voice that's been around this block before, and they'd like to tell us something.

Clear, cool, smooth and full-bodied. This isn't a description of wine, but rather of Jenee Halstead's voice. Her album, The River Grace, showcases Halstead's writing and vocal talents in ten tracks of varying moods and depths. Firmly rooted in the acoustic folk genre, Halstead experiments with instrumentation utilizing mandolins, dobros and some keyboards.

The album starts off with an upbeat ballad, "Before I Go." Halstead's alto voice hits ethereally high and hauntingly low notes in the track "Deep Dark Sea." Intricate instrumentation in the title track doesn't make up for the lack of a catchy melody, and due to the short length, it isn't the most memorable track.

"Nick Drake" is a tribute to one of her influences, and the wistful lyrics float off Halstead's tongue. "How do you dance all night, when your heart won't feel the rhythm, your feet won't take to flight?" On the track "Darkest Day," Halstead narrates the story of a doomed love, some guns and a highway chase. Comparisons to Dolly Parton and Patty Griffin are bound to arise with Halstead's vocal command and versatility.

The whimsical lyrics of "Drunkard's Lullaby" don't quite match the slow melody, but it's interesting nonetheless. A twangy guitar and lyrics alluding to county fairs make an appearance in the very country "Dusty Rose," while the bluegrass influence, reminiscent of Alison Krauss & Union Station, can be heard in "Reach Up."

Halstead sounds very much like a female Nick Drake on the chorus of "Skipping Stones," with the melody drawing inspiration from Drake's Pink Moon. The album ends with "St. Peter," a track with a strong vocal performance by Halstead, sounding more mature than her young years. The stand out tracks are "Deep Dark Sea," "Nick Drake," and "Reach Up." (self-released)

This is one gorgeous debut CD. Jenee Halstead's voice has a country/folk cutting edge that slices into you the moment you hear it. Songs with a timeless feel like "Deep Dark Sea" utilize her sharp tone (yet smooth delivery) to great effect. Judging by the superlatives among the critical responses on the CD Baby web site, I'm not alone in my assessment. A consummate writer, her song "Nick Drake," sounds directed at the famous writer and someone else as well.
"How do you put meaning into something that is not there? I'm so lonely now I just don't care." I don't recall seeing other songs in tribute to this late, great songwriter. It's a stroke of genius to use a style that reflects Drake and use him in the title. This one is definitely iPod bound.

Effortlessly unifying the realms of delta blues, folk, and the popular idiosyncratic female pop genre, Jenee Halstead is as much a product of contemporary times as she is of the tumultuous ‘60s when folk and pop music took on the heavy task of providing solace and escape to an entire generation. Halstead’s voice is as beautiful as her music is gracefully crafted. “The River Grace” may well be the first movements of a rising star.

"The River Grace" opens with sandpaper percussion and producer Evan Brubaker's high-strung guitar, introducing a sound one step left of typical roots music. Sure, you'll hear dobro aplenty and down-tempo tunes throughout. You'll also find keyboard effects and a song called Nick Drake. But it's Halstead's voice that makes "The River Grace" stand out. She treads in Alison Krauss/Patty Griffin territory with vocals that ache, whisper, and resonate. The album's strongest songs contrast dark tales with the vulnerability in Halstead's voice. "Darkest Day" spins a yarn about young lovers, petty criminals rushing headlong into tragedy. The I in "Drunkard's Lullaby" tells her man to sleep it off in the tank until "you know what your name is." The narrator of "Dusty Rose" smells a fragrance on her man she recognizes from a woman they'd run into at the county fair. She sends him away with this brutal gotcha song, despite their 25-year relationship and her fondness for the scent. Such surprises help make "The River Grace" a strong debut.

This eastern Washington transplant was my discovery of the year. Jenee (pronounced like “Renee”) has a honey-throated voice and the storytelling ability of a soul well beyond her years. Don’t miss her upcoming appearance at Boccelli’s. This, the title cut from her debut album, is a gem among many.

"You'll hear strains of Emmylou Harris ..."

Jenee Halstead and her band filled Club Passim with devoted fans and southern lullabies for the release party of The River Grace. Halstead, a Washington state native, mentioned she had first visited Passim two years previously when she first moved to Boston, and was honored to be able to play the room for her release party. Halstead has been compared to such greats as Emmylou Harris and Patty Griffin. Her sound carried the dusty spirit of old country folk but with a modern, young and fast-pasted twist.
Halstead’s lacy voice, complete with a signature country-warble, lead the band into songs about highway legends and memories of love. Luke Price on fiddle noticeably supported the flow of each song with his tender sound. The night started out with “Dusty Rose” a slow country/folk ballad interwoven with essences of dobro and upright bass.
“The Darkest Day”, which carried her strongest melody, is proof that a story about a run from the police can be bone-chillingly beautiful. Her voice gracefully stretched to capture the perfect notes which sparkled soft and quick like stars in the harmony of the song.
The watery, waltzy blues of “St. Peter” silenced the already focused audience. Halstead’s voice sank dark and sultry as she sang of motivation and life-lessons for a loved one. The steady strum of the guitar and call of the mandolin throughout the song seemed to agree and encourage the message in the sad, but hopeful lyrics.
In between songs, Halstead would joke with her band mates and the audience. The teamwork of all the musicians was obvious. Each member of the group playing gently enough to illuminate the strength in Halstead’s voice without allowing the sound of their own instruments to be lost. Throughout the evening Halstead and her band would start out in different musical locations and find each other harmoniously before the end of each song.
Halstead ended the set by playing a rendition of Gillian Welch’s, “Winter’s Come and Gone.” Ironically, outside was the first day of Boston’s warmth and sunshine since the infamous winter’s end. The band played Welch’s tune as enthusiastic as the audience’s applause afterward. The band returned to the stage with a heartfelt encore of “Keep Me Alive” by Sarah Siskind.

Le Cri du Coyote (translated):
Jeene (sic) Halstead has decided to take full advantage of this "River Grace," she has thrown herself in the water on this CD. Hailing from Somerville, US, Jeene (sic) is unique for her voice as well: delicate, intricate, a perfect marriage of Sam Phiillips (sic) and Emmylou. A beautiful, acoustic, dream-like, country-folk album. One doesn't know much about her but there is, on "The River Grace" details which don't lie: she will go far …

In a cavernous living room lit with the glow of 24 candles, Jenee Halstead and her band start to play. There are no wires, spotlights or microphones, simply a half circle of four musicians standing in a corner. The scene brings to mind a Depression-era campfire, not a suburban house concert a few miles south of Boston, with well-to-do guests nibbling catered barbeque and sipping wine from long-stemmed glasses.

The near-absence of light makes such a mental leap more possible. The group’s strumming forms are mere shadows; the hazy darkness punctuated by fiddle salvos, deft guitar and mandolin runs, and Halstead’s quivering, sweetly crooning voice.

Though the music is deep and distant, the story behind its creation is as modern as an iPhone. Using MySpace, Facebook and other technology tools of the independent music trade, talents were verified, reputations vetted and friendships cemented days, even weeks before anyone met face to face to play songs that would make Woody Guthrie smile in approval.

Or even George Clinton, as Halstead’s rapidly assembled network of bluegrass purists, an old school producer, his song doctor wife and some electronica-affected friends combined to make “The River Grace,” a pitch perfect blend of traditional picking and modern tweaking.

Old time, meet Internet time.

“It happened really quickly,” Halstead says. Soon after arriving in Boston in mid-2006, she created a MySpace page. “I had some recordings I’d done right before I left Seattle. Within literally 2 or 3 days, I got a comment from Matt Smith at Club Passim.”

Smith, who manages the venerable Cambridge folk institution, which just celebrated its 50th anniversary, told Halstead he liked her stuff and to keep in touch. He also mentioned her to some of his friends.

Meanwhile, Jenee placed an ad on the Craig’s List web site, with an eye towards putting together a band in the spirit of Crooked Still. “I always wanted to do bluegrass, but didn’t think I could because I wasn’t schooled in it.” Of her reservations about seeking out seasoned pickers, she says, “it was like walking on sacred ground.”

Guitarist Andy Cambria answered the ad. “I heard her stuff and knew right away that she could be in front of a band,” he says.

Five weeks and a flurry of e-mails later, they were playing together.

Halstead divided her time between building a name in Boston and recording an album in Pennsylvania. The solo acoustic project collapsed in a cloud of romantic confusion with the record’s producer. “Trying to decide if we were going to be a couple … got too difficult,” she says. “It was disheartening to lose all that work, all those hours.”

“Out of the blue, I got an email from Evan Brubaker, saying Matt Smith told me to check you out.” Though she had long lived in the same city as the producer, Smith’s e-mail was their first introduction.

“I’m totally horrified that you lived in Seattle for nine years and I never knew about you,” wrote Brubaker to Halstead.

“I was instantly drawn to her mixture of old time and poetry,” says Brubaker. “I let her know that if she ever needed to do some recording, I would be honored.”

Halstead’s songs are at once beautiful and tinged with night-sweat inducing dread - Appalachian gothic tales of fear, suffering and salvation. Things aren’t simple, meanings are never quite clear.

Though she describes herself as “non-religious but spiritual,” themes of heaven and hell abound. Death is a constant companion.

If Flannery O’Connor were raised in Spokane, Washington, listening to her father’s Led Zeppelin albums, she might have sounded like this.

On the title track from “The River Grace,” a woman struggles to live in a time of war. When, at the song’s bridge, she implores, “embrace the undertow/take me home,” it’s not certain whether she’s praying to be carried across the waves or beneath them.

A crime spree at the heart of “Darkest Day” echoes Robert Earl Keen’s “Road Goes on Forever,” but the tragedy at song’s end is more palpable, the heroine’s devastation permanent.

Then there’s “Dusty Rose,” a song that seems lifted from Loretta Lynn’s Jack White sessions. It’s either a murder ballad or the final sad chapter of “Stand By Your Man” – the singer won’t tell.

Halstead - her first name rhymes with Renee – says her songs are “stories of people’s lives that came to me subconsciously.” Whether the narrator of “Dusty Rose” is a killer or a grieving widow is something she emphatically doesn’t know.

“These are not my stories,” she says. “There’s some woman out there who owns that song. I don’t know who she is.”

“It’s a healing thing to let them go,” she continues, and let others decide their meaning.

That’s a sentiment she shares with another songwriter, Patty Griffin, who once likened her songs to children set free in the world.

The first Velvet Underground record didn’t sell a lot of copies, but (so the legend goes) everyone who bought one started a band. The same is probably true of Patty Griffin. Not a lot of people heard “Living With Ghosts” when it came out, but many young women - including Jenee Halstead – did, and were inspired to buy a guitar and a notepad.

“I don’t think I started writing songs because of her,” Jenee says, “but I think she gave me the impetus to really get on my guitar and try to do some emotional mining."

Evan Brubaker is also a fan - he even named his recording studio “Forgiveness,” after a Patty Griffin song. “’Living With Ghosts’ is the chick singer bible,” he said recently. “The songs are simple but brilliant and universal. I don’t know how many copies of that record I have given away.”

Before coming to Seattle to work on the record, Halstead and Brubaker had long phone conversations about the “old timey” record she hoped to make. “I really trusted Evan,” she says. “Who he was at his core and his vision of music and why he’s doing it lined up with everything.”

A couple of things, however, gave her pause.

Songwriting, says Halstead, “is like entering a pitch black room, and the light may never go on. And to be honest, I don’t know if I want it to.”

Opening up such a dark and solitary process to another writer was a challenge. Megan Peters is both an accomplished lyricist and Evan Brubaker’s wife. She is also, says the producer, “one of the best co-writers in existence.”

But for Halstead, letting go was a challenge. “It was very hard at first to work with Megan,” she says. “She is a tour de force, so I was a little bit intimidated by her.”

“She is truly a master of the craft,” she continues. Peters has an ability to “look at it from all angles or take a song in a direction you would never have thought about in a million years.”

Brubaker’s biggest idea of all was perhaps the one that took the most getting used to.

Hearing that keyboard player Steve Moore would be available for a few days, Brubaker says, “I got a flash of how it would all come together.”

“Steve is brilliant. He has a collection of 80’s Casio keyboards, a bunch of guitar pedals, a little amp and a Fender Rhodes. He plays free jazz, hardcore, singer-songwriter…the guy is game for anything.”

“I couldn’t imagine how keyboards fit into the old-time sound,” countered Halstead.

“We started messing around with live drum samples for fun,” she says. “I said, ‘slam a crazy (Roots drummer) Questlove beat behind “Before I Go”’ - just as a joke.”

“I loved it. Over the course of the next 24 hours it opened my mind.”

Co-mingling beat samples with mandolins, dreamy organ excursions and Dobro flourishes is, to say the least, unconventional. But it infuses “The River Grace” with adventure and irreverence, transforming it from a merely good folk album to a pivotal record that comes along once in a generation to invent a new musical language.

Hollow Bones
Jenee Halstead/Cd Baby
After her excellent 2008 debut album The River Grace, rising roots singer-songwriter Jenee Halstead treats us to a fine new EP called Hollow Bones. Where The River Grace cut a fine line between folk and Americana, Hollow Bones opts for a more countrified approach, with five charming songs in a diversity of country styles, ranging from pure country (Damascus) via country-swing (Good Lookin’ Boy) and country-noir (La Luna Roja) to country-blues (Banks Of The Mississippi). Best of all though is the melancholy title song, whose style harks back most to the kind of material found on The River Grace. With her wonderful singing voice, displaying grace and emotion in equal measure, any song Halstead tackles seems immediately blessed and although the EP, because of the variety, is more a showcase for her talents (and those of the excellent musicians accompanying her) than the coherent statement The River Grace cd was, her beguiling lyrics and melodies still underline that precious few singer-songwriters are able to conjure up the sort of magic Jenee Halstead displays here with almost every song.
***1/2 Pieter Wijnstekers