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Michael Reno Harrell
Southern Son
Dancing Bear Records
By Steve Cooper
 Damn it all. Why doesn't this
guy have a record contract? He sounds like a cross between Kevin
Welch and Tom Russell and writes songs that either would be proud
to have written. Where the hell is Rounder Records? Sugar Hill?
Bloodshot? HighTone? Dead Reckoning? Razor & Tie? Red House?
Oh Boy? Dejadisc? Mammoth? Little Dog? New West? It's plain stupid
that a talent like this has to record and distribute his own
music.
I can't tell you much about Mr. Michael "Reno" Harrell
other than he never had a singing partner named "Smiley."
His website (www.michaelreno.com)
has a short bio that says he was born in the mountains of Tennessee
and spent a lot of time in the Buncombe County/Asheville, NC
area. Almost every Google hit about Harrell has the same "Appalachian
grit and wit" quote (whatever that means). It is also mentioned
frequently that he won the Chris Austin Songwriting Contest one
year at Merlefest in the gospel category, though he is not a
gospel singer/songwriter. Click on the links to buy one of his
(to date) three albums and one cassette, and you are taken to
an independent artists co-op website called Running Time.
So, why the obscurity thing? Judging by his photograph (looks
like that long-haired guy in the Oak Ridge Boys that quit and
then came back), Harrell is old enough to have, somewhere along
the line, wowed some record label type. His songs are of a quality
that it's hard to imagine they said "no." All I can
conjecture is he must have Tourettes Syndrome and, every time
he gets the germ of an opportunity, he launches into a scorching
tirade of profanity.
But, enough bewilderment. Let us speak of Southern Son
and how it fairly glows. Sheee, where to begin? Fifteen songs
and not one of them even remotely sucks. We shall begin the beguine
at the beginning. "Cotton Shirt" is a wondrous song
of Southern imagery, strung together without ever stooping to
rote narrative: "Water, water, and a piece of sugar cane/And
a cotton shirt and some overalls/And a tin roof when it rains."
Featuring some appetizing resonator guitar picking by Jaret Carter
and some moving harmonies by Phyllis Tannerfrye, the tune sounds
distantly like "Sixteen Tons" drug through the land
of Jerry Douglas and Tony Rice. It's singer-songwriting with
ace pickin' and singin'. Harrell's dead-on, Kevin Welch vocal
is now-relaxed, now-intense, and powerfully expressive.
"In the Summertime" is another "imagery"
song that succeeds with ease: "Screen door slammin'/A bunch
of kids runnin' down a hill/To catch the ice cream man/He talks
like W.C. Fields/And he sells ice cream and it smells like wine/In
the summertime." Or, try this: "A grape Nehi and a
can of sardines/Smokin' grapevines in your cut-off jeans."
And the tune--easy, stress-free, sly, in-the-pocket, like Greg
Brown at his best.
Which is not to say Mr. Harrell can't write a fine narrative.
"1943" is a sprawling chronicle of a World War II couple
and their lives before, during, and after the Big War. The generational
differences of parents, kids, and grandkids are neatly summed
up in the chorus: "Different times and different drummers/And
different music in their souls." Though not quite as strong
as Paul Simon's similar "Rene and Georgette Magritte and
Their Dog After the War," it isn't too far behind. That
Harrell can rein in the sprawl and make a succinct, subtle-yet-potent
point is testament to his songwriting skills.
"One Single Thing" is oddly-but-nicely punctuated
by Kay Crouch on marimba. Harrell's lead acoustic, as well as
that of long-time friend Jack Lawrence (an old Doc and Merle
mainstay), are deft, soulful, and they perfectly frame Harrell's
lead vocal. The lyric is a woeful tale of love lost and forgotten:
"She's got the birthday candles/She blew out when she was
three/But she didn't keep one single thing/That reminded her
of me." Again, it shows Harrell's keen talent for evoking
emotion from objects and imagery.
Harrell successfully takes on love from another war era in
"No Joke": "Remember that old Polaroid of us in
Myrtle Beach/I was looking at the camera/And you were looking
right at me/And you were smiling like a mermaid/And I was happy
as a clam/'Cause you were home from college/And I was home from
Vietnam." The chorus again crystallizes the narrative ably:
"And we were so happy and so broke/And we were so in love/And
that's no joke." I'm not sure who is playing lead acoustic
on the song, but it is pickin'-party right.
I'll close by talking about the song that won the Merlefest
Chris Austin Songwriting Contest, Gospel Category. "The
Baby's Name" sums up the promise of Christ in one repeated,
simple line: "Mary said 'Jesus is the baby's name.'"
The acoustic guitar picking is once more choice, worthy of a
Steve Young. Back to the lyric, the fuller context of the line
smoothly, naturally brings in the all-important humility of Christ:
"Mary, what you gonna call the Baby/'The Prince of Peace'/Or
'The Kings of Kings'/Mary said, 'Jesus is the baby's name.'"
That's just plain, good writing. No better way to say it.
And so, I return to bewilderment. Help me out of my maze of
incomprehension. Spread the word. Get this guy signed up, recorded,
and widely distributed. Michael Reno Harrell has the goods. Deliver
him from the valley of the unsigned.
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