Grayson Capps says he’s always been attracted to the dark side of folk and country music. Hence the title of his latest album, Heartbreak, Misery & Death. The Alabama singer-songwriter grew up listening to these melancholy tunes. He would sing them with his father, to whom the LP is dedicated, and his father’s friends or listen to the records alone in the house as a young teen. On the new record, Capps croons the 16 tunes primarily by himself, aided by his longtime guitar-playing buddy Corky Hughes. The solo human voice gives the recording a lonesome sound, like a wolf howling in the woods. Heartbreak, Misery & Death may not be as desolate as the title suggests, but the moniker accurately captures the mood.
The Alabama singer-songwriter has an expressive narrative voice. While Capps didn’t pen these cuts, his intimate delivery makes them seem personal. He’s the teller of these tales of woe, not the one who experienced the trauma. There is a big difference between being in a car crash or hearing about one, as in the old Louvin Brothers‘ chestnut “Wreck on the Highway”. The Louvin Brothers offered their take as a morality tale about sin and death. Capps smiles when presenting over-the-top sentiments about whiskey, blood, and god because he means the lyrics to entertain rather than save one’s soul. The result is like watching a movie rather than witnessing an event.
This works to Grayson Capps’ advantage. His versions of classics such as Doc Watson‘s “Columbus Stockade Blues” and “St. James Hospital” (Capps also performs several other Watson songs) ring with folk authenticity as he carefully articulates each syllable. He doesn’t slur or cry for effect. He wants the listener to understand every word and lets the lyrics speak for themselves. By annunciating clearly, the more contemporary material by artists such as Jerry Jeff Walker (“Stoney”), Gordon Lightfoot (“Early Morning Rain”), Paul Siebel (“Louise”), and Randy Newman (“Guilty”) function as modern day poetry in the tradition of Edgar Allen Poe and Alfred Noyes.
Speaking of poets, Capps sings Leonard Cohen‘s “Hallelujah”, the most recent composition on the record, because his father liked it so much. There is nothing wrong with Capps’ take on the song, but it’s the least effective number, perhaps because it has become cliché due to being overplayed and over-sung by so many contemporary artists.
In that respect, the more obscure songs are the best. The fact that Capps knew these songs as a boy suggests they were all popular at one time, but that is no longer true for some. Tunes such as “Old Maid’s Lament”, which Capps recalls was known in his house as “Sister Sarah”, “Copper Kettle”, and “Barbara Allen”, were well-known classics recorded by several artists during the great folk scare of the early 1960s, but their popularity has waned over time. Capps marvelously resurrects them and makes them sound like fresh discoveries.
Don’t let the album’s title fool you. These songs will lift your spirit by sharing their sorrow with you. Misery loves company. Grayson Capps’ album invites one to sing along.