(RCA)
The first word on the first track of his first album is enough to make any casual listener a devotee. With depth that accompanies wisdom, the grit of anxiety and influences of yesteryear's troubadours, Ray LaMontagne's voice lets out a cry and a lament. He sings, \Trouble / Been doggin' my soul since the day I was born,"" like the words have been growing in his throat for years, waiting for a moment to be born.
That first line from Ray LaMontagne's recent release, Trouble, speaks to the quiet power of the album. It hails the emergence of a new artist to watch, but will probably avoid the title of ""next big thing."" In the way that the snare drum rim shot at the beginning of ""Like a Rolling Stone"" blazed the way for the brilliance of Bob Dylan's Highway 61 Revisited, LaMontagne's first word is the wake-up call to everyone looking for the next singer-songwriter whose skill in simplicity is matched by his strength with words. Ray LaMontagne may well be the reason folk music has a future.
LaMontagne's past is the dream of every folk singer trying to pass himself off as the genuine article. He was born into a family of six children from various fathers and traveled around the country throughout his younger years, not because of his mother's whims, but out of necessity. He lived in tents and cars, barely making it out of high school because he was always an outsider. It took a song by Stephen Stills to make him into a musician.
LaMontagne credits Still's ""Treetop Flyer"" from the 1991 album Stills Alone for his conversion from a factory laborer to a folk singer. Following the revelation of Stills, Ray sought other musicians of his ilk, finding Dylan, Joni Mitchell and Neil Young, among others. Trouble sounds like those artists have been gathered together and distilled in a finely crafted, simple and beautiful debut collection from a new artist with no place to go but up.
""Narrow Escape,"" four tracks into Trouble, is another indication of LaMaontagne's early accomplishment. With guest vocals by Jennifer Stills and gentle brushes of cymbals in the background, it is the tale of two lovers escaping the law. LaMontagne's takes his time on the harmonica, drawing out the somber sound while Jennifer makes the song into a effective eulogy.
But Trouble is not a collection of depressing pieces and sad stories. On ""Forever My Friend,"" LaMontagne's deft use of the acoustic guitar makes a joyful noise that rolls along like a long walk through falling leaves. He takes his time and every sound comes through with apparent ease.
Trouble is the sort of album that folk music has been waiting for. It is neither beholden to the genre's roots or given over to mandolins and banjos. It excels when it doesn't have to push its tempo or move away from a man's voice and his fingers.
The album winds down with ""All the Wild Horses,"" a soulful, wonderful song that uses a five-piece string section to give LaMontagne a chance to whisper and wish his way to the end of Trouble. In a voice that's part sagebrush and part sandpaper, he carries the album to a quiet conclusion fitting for his first work, which will hopefully be a testament for greatness to come.
