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UMC.org review- Carrie Newcomer: The Geography of Light

August 12th, 2008
by Steve Morley

 

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Label: Rounder
Sound/Style: Diverse contemporary folk with ethnic elements and philosophical lyrics

By its nature, most popular music deals in oversimplification―life is happy or sad, it’s either sunny or rainy and you’re either shouting "hallelujah" or wailing the blues. If it’s subtler shades you’re after, they’re more likely to be found in the folk idiom, where singer/songwriter Carrie Newcomer resides. Newcomer not only sees the emotional colors that exist between black and white, she makes a deliberate study of them on her challenging album The Geography of Light.

Her gentle and literate worldview bears traces of peaceful, post-hippie humanism but is more notably informed by her Quaker faith. From the Quaker discipline of silent worship comes the track "Two Toasts," a meditation on sound, silence, and the places where the two seemingly exclusive experiences overlap. ("And in between the sound of words/ I hear your silent, sounding soul/ Where One abides in solitude/ Who keeps us one when speech shall go.")

"A Map of Shadows" finds her vigilantly watching for the first flush of dawn, a moment she transforms into a poetic device. ("Well, well, well, it's so hard to tell/ There's a line between light and dark/ Between heaven and hell/ Well, well, well, it's not easy to see/ What's out there on my left or right/ Or what's right in front of me.")

These regions of inbetweenness that Newcomer finds so fascinating range from the cusp of personal change―which she describes as “nearly weightless”―to the notion of life itself as a waiting room of sorts, as portrayed on "Lazarus." The track picks up fictionally where the gospel of John leaves off, depicting an alienated Lazarus who, having been raised by Jesus Himself, now longs restlessly to again be near his Lord.

"Geodes" considers the magical crystals inside the otherwise common-looking rocks that pepper her Southern Indiana homeland. She adeptly uses these as a metaphor for the unique facets concealed within us all and goes on to suggest that, if we’re properly tuned in, we may even encounter God-like qualities in one another. ("All these things that we call familiar/ Are just miracles clothed in the commonplace/ You’ll see it if you try in the next stranger's eyes/ God walks around in muddy boots, sometimes rags and that's the truth/ You can't always tell, but sometimes you just know.")

Similarly, the lightly rocking "Where You Been" elaborates on the singer’s belief that the voice of God can speak through the most unlikely vehicles at the most improbable times. But uplifting pleasantries like this one are not the norm, despite the radiant warmth of Newcomer’s full-bodied alto and the tasteful acoustic textures provided by cello, violin and bouzouki on various cuts. Her knack for seeing into the complex heart of things dominates the collection, creating a twilight effect that touches both music and lyrics.

"You’d Think by Now" is a sober lament about our inability to remove our own blind spots, while "A Mean Kind of Justice" decries violence and war even as it strains to affirm Newcomer’s belief in the inherent goodness of humankind. ("There’s a goodness on this earth/ That will not die, will not die/ It bears all, it’s seen it all, and still it survives/ And I know that we have failed/ But I've seen that we can fly/ There's a goodness on this earth that will not die.")

Newcomer’s use of spiritual concepts succeeds in depicting a world where divinity coexists with day-to-day affairs. While this can be faith-affirming, Newcomer’s personal slant on the subject may resonate more with seekers and those with open-ended theologies than with hard-line Christians. Still, anyone in search of well-rendered music packed with emotional and philosophical insights will find in The Geography of Light a map leading to illuminating treasures.