Sean Rowe – Magic (2011)

Sean Rowe would captivate listeners no matter what he was singing. His deep, rumbling baritone delivers tales of lives held in suspension, people balanced between night and day, darkness and light, life and death. Which is not to say Rowe’s songs are negative or downhearted. They’re just brief, impressionistic snapshots of this world we live in, full of muted joy and sorrow.
With two exceptions, the tunes on Magic are played at almost funereal tempos. “Wrong Side of the Bed”, a bluesy dyspeptic rocker with a sharply ironic lyric, builds up to an anguished howling fadeout, while “Jonathan” has a jazzy R&B feel and uses an accelerating tempo and intensifying volume to deliver a grim tale of lovers meeting their end in a car crash fueled by rage and alcohol. The rest of the songs are less dramatic, dealing with the ordinary losses of everyday life and a more measured approach.


The seductive melody of “Time To Think” unwinds on acoustic guitar and stand-up bass, the story of a man trying one last time to seduce a woman he left behind, wondering if the decision to end the relationship was the right one. Cara May Gorman’s harmonies suggest a struggle between the lovers. “Old Black Dodge” is a quiet, ominous blues tune with a surrealistic lyric that portrays the wild emotions of young, forbidden love. The subtle guitars give the tune an almost unbearable tension, with Gorman’s wordless moaning at the end of the song accentuating its spooky feel. “American” offers a glum poetic view of America and its place in today’s world. Quiet piano, despondent cello, and a vocal that’s both angry and resigned help convey the track’s apocalyptic view.
On the lighter side (and that’s a relative term) is “The Long Haul”, a subdued celebration of a long relationship. The lyrics suggest that Rowe is happy, but the music undercuts the message with its somber tones. I expected the song to build to a crescendo of some kind, but even as Rowe wails, “Now I know what it means to be alive,” he sounds tentative. The one real ray of sunshine is the album opener, “Surprise.” Like the other tunes, it’s sprinkled with unsettling images of decay and dissolution, but this time they lead us to a jubilant punch line, the album’s one flash of real elation.
Rowe’s measured cadences give the lyrics plenty of time to get under your skin. The almost subliminal support of his backing band builds on the melancholic aura, with the cello of Monica Wilson-Roach and Troy Pohl’s synth effects adding washes of moody color to make these poetic vignettes darkly sparkle. Magic proves that Rowe is one to watch.