McINTOSH CATCHES THE FIRE WITH FIRE & SAGE–Rich Marsh, On Record Anyone who’s ever been ot the Jackson Hole, WY area can tell you it’s a place that makes you contemplate life in a different time frame.
Whether you’re taking in the vastness of the Grand Tetons, marveling in the natural wonders of Yellowstone or just dropping a line in a mountain lake, the region practically makes you stop and smell the wildflowers.
It should come as no surprise then that jazz,folk and blues artist Beth McIntosh calls Jackson, WY, home. She’s the kind of singer songwriter who makes you pull away from the slam-bang world of popular music long enough to realize there’s another world, a softer world, of music out there waiting to be embraced on tis own terms. And while it may be softer, it’s arguably more powerful.
You’ll know you’re into something special with FIRE & SAGE as soon as you hear the opening to “Three Women,” a song inspired by a photograph that McIntosh saw at a ranch, depicting the ranch matriarch and two companions. There’s a lot to like about McIntosh’s music: her way with a catchy melody; her instantly likable singing voice, which, while it bears subtle glimpses of other acoustically-driven female artists, remains McIntosh’s instrument alone; and her finely textured, intricate guitar picking.
But the incredible thing about the song is how well you’ll know the characters that inhabit it after three minutes and 25 seconds. The thumbnail sketch: ”Three women come to Wyoming/One lives her life in the middle of town/One sees her days out far over the mountain/And one lets her family down,” show McIntosh is a songwriter to be reckoned with.
I’ll be completely bamboozled if a whole slew of artists (Emmylou Harris comes to mind, among others) don’t come beating down McIntosh’s door to cover “Benjamin Hill,” a musical picture postcard about life in a little Mexican town. The three-quarter waltz time signature is as hard to shake as this cinematic lyrical imagery: “And there ain’t no elevated department stores/Or plastic sleighs hanging at Christmas/There’s the smile of the Spanish man with old wrinkled skin/And the dust and the stick are their toys.” Believe me, this is an instant classic.
“When I Want You (Where Will You Be?)” employs a full bodied guitar pattern accented by Hawaiian synthesizer. It proves to be a wonderful trapping for McIntosh’s inventive lyrics, which transcend the usual syrupy love-song sugar with the lines: “I’ll stretch you over canvas/And write you into my song?I’ll name a game of cards in your fame?And I won’t stop when you’re gone.”
With so much going for her, it’s simply a bonus to find out that McIntosh is an artist with a social conscience. “A Guest In This Land” deals with the ongoing tragedy of the American Indian. “Using their names/Like we admire them/Shadow and shame/Now won will hire him/No one will listen to the ancient wisdom...,” McIntosh sings in a voice that reflects the weariness of the situation. She also unleashes new vocal range on this cut; her voice soars and descends majestically.
The albums’ last five cuts, “Down to the Wire,” “Crimes,” the traditional (done untraditionally) “The Wayfaring Stranger,” “Lightning Girl” and the timeless Rogers and Hart song, “My Funny Valentine,” all showcase McIntosh’s jazzier side, and she’s as much in tune with that idiom as she is with folk or blues.
If you need to tune down, slow down and reflect, Beth McIntosh has the Fire, and if you try this album, you’ll be the Sage.
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