'Bonfire Ballads & Street Cries' by Justin Scott
If folk music is the unadorned sounds of wood, wire and voice, Justin Scott is a folkie with a thing for electronic enhancements, at least. And on Bonfire Ballads & Street Cries, he puts his affection for sonic augmentation of his world-weary singer-songwriter artistry to fruitful use. Drones that replace traditional bass fiddle or guitar, treated vocals, moody organ chording coupled with drum machine and dystopian reggae glitchiness set already troubled and desperate (yet ultimately hopeful) lyrics in starker relief than the accompaniment afforded by a typical coffee house setting would allow.
That those lyrics come through the gnarled bellow of Scott's wizened larynx lend them both gravitas and warmth. Among his ballads and cries are a try or two at the kind of roughhewn country rock that might net him approval among Americana listeners, and Scott makes that more conventional style work for him, too. But it’s when he surrounds his guttural, mournful couplets to less conventional soundscapes that he claims the freshest ground. Whether there’s something in the water in his rural Waukesha village of Merton or he’s simply innovating in relative isolation, Scott casts his longings and laments in compelling accoutrements.
