Paul Spring Always Almost Home Record Release Show
Bar Sundown
Ridgewood, NYC
Dec. 2, 2023
An artist friend of mine once relayed a piece of life-changing advice. The advice was given to him by his mentor, and Paul Spring’s Saturday show at Bar Sundown is proof positive of the eternity of its truth. This is the nugget: The secret to constructing an original artistic voice is to cultivate a wide and varied breadth of influence.
Paul Spring’s music is exemplary in this regard, seamlessly blending aspects of a true glut of genres. Among the ones that come most immediately to mind: hip-hop, Irish reel, indie-sans-sleaze, and, tying it all together with grace and spark, the counterpoint of J.S. Bach.
Beggar by choice, scholar by trade—
a crown is a crown even it is of thistles made.
I know what I like, my prison is fair,
but I’m looking for new, more comfortable shackles to wear …
Now, reader, if you are unfamiliar, I fear the sound you’re imagining — some cluttered mess of break and boom-pap, hokey fiddle, lyrics the poetry of which fails for their emotionally-manipulative earnestness, all run through with plinking harpsicord. This could not be further from the sound that Spring renders forth. The genius of Spring as a musician (the remainder of his charm we’ll delve into down the page) lies in his craft-forward understanding of the use of these sounds and techniques, the effects they produce, not the affect they might failingly legitimize. This is no hyper-hyphenated fusion, no post-modern juxtaposing of opposites kin in the unlikeness. Spring’s music all serves one central attribute: Paul’s voice, and the words he needs us to hear.
Paul started his set at his release party sotto voce, and acapella: “No doom, no gloom, no lies from me. I’m happy, I’m happy,” sung from silence to dirge toward the set to come.
It was a perfect opening salvo, for what awaited us would be packed with synth, pedal organ, drum-machine, jangling and harped guitar, and John Nellen’s rubbery bass. The naked display of Paul’s effortless falsetto tuned our ears to where our listening should be focused, the voice, the word. Let the rest be a surprise, startling at every turn, ever-developing, running disparate approaches over each other into something fecund and abundant in-and-of-itself.
More of the heart, less of the ache.
More of the deep, less of the fake.
I don’t think that it’s too much to ask for.
The set’s general arc was one of cumulation, every following song adding another dancier element until, the last three tunes of the evening, Spring abandoned his guitar and stood to sing. If humility can equal to swagger, Paul Spring was too proof-positive of this. His presence was endlessly warm and kind.
There is now, and has been for sometime, a surfeit of predatory, soft-boi sensitivity in the zeitgeist — young men performing, voice and guitar, aw-shucksing their way through songs about heartbreaks and unanswered text messages, all with embarrassment and tearful apology. Spring’s approach is antidote to this as well. Everything, lyrics to music, is sincere in its effort and never an affront, but an invitation, to the audience. There’s the feeling that he really wants to be playing this music, that he’d really like us all to hear it, and that we’re all welcome to it if we want it… if not, let him know when you are…
Karma come over
fill up this up this cup of mine.
Make it runneth over
You know I’ve done my time…
The centerpiece of the set was one of the singles from his newest record, Always Almost Home, a tune titled “Karma Come Over.” It was, to my listening, the best example of everything Paul does well. Structured in the three parts, a la any pop tune. But each section — verse, pre-chorus, chorus — not only stylistically as different as possible, but also orchestrated differently and set in keys wayward and distant from each other. And. It. Worked. The stomach-turning, aurally jarring shifts, graceful first and foremost.
High society
I’m as high as high can be
No way around it once you’ve found it
You can trust on me.
Paul’s a very obviously fastidious and obsessive personality when it comes to the creation of the work. None of this muddled the presentation. He made it for us, and he’s having just as much fun listening as we are.
Everybody losing, losing control …
All we wanna do is own our own
All we wanna do is see the stars.
It’s a feeling in my bones, it’s a fire in your heart…
I got a feeling that you already know.
If we gotta run are you ready to go?
