Hardcore Troubadours

In the current ever-changing musical landscape, it’s a mystery how anyone but the top echelon performers make a living.

The CD appears to be quickly dying as a medium, Internet sales are islands in the stream of pirated ‘net file-sharing and live music venues don’t appear to be flourishing. It would seem to be even harder on solo acts than bands; at least with the latter there are built-in support structures as well as costs and revenue sharing.

But somehow, someway, many singer-songwriters stay in the game in surprising large numbers. Here are three intrepid examples who deserve your support and who’ll repay that with a deep satisfaction.

Of all the unsung and underappreciated singer-songwriters still on the scene, my personal favorite is CHUCK PROPHET. He was a founding member of the punk/country band Green On Red and he’s put out several solo albums since the band’s break-up.

Prophet’s a wickedly good and economical guitar player and he can write one hell of a song. But it’s his voice – a tenor verging on a baritone, a rumbling, creaking and mischievous instrument.

His latest record, SOAP AND WATER, is his best effort since his first, The Hurting Business. The album kicks off with the bumptious and naughty “Freckle Song,” in which Prophet admires the objects of the song’s skin, which not only freckles but peels in the sun. The song is a blast of irresistible summer fun, just in time for winter. Prophet gets all sentimental in “Would You Love Me?” and awestruck in “Doubter Out of Jesus.” He has an obvious adoration-thing for women, as exemplified in “A Woman’s Voice” – said voice “can drug you” and make you do all kinds of things you never thought yourself capable of. Prophet and his band crank it up on the nervy “I Can Feel Your Heartbeat” and take it down low on the swaying and wistful “Naked Ray.”

Prophet’s band is super-tight and his arrangements are imaginative and ear-tickling. Vibraphones (always so cool) horn blasts, Fender Rhodes and vintage synthesizers all are employed to great effect. There are no bad or mediocre songs on the album – only winners.

JOE HENRY is a mysterious sort. Lately he’s been very busy as a producer of soul and blues artists, (Susan Tedeshi, Bettye LaVette), but he’s got five albums under his belt.

CIVILIANS is another curious oddity. It is his most stripped-down product in several albums but often baffles. Who, or what, is he talking about exactly in the elliptical “Civil Wars”? Henry likes to juxtapose well-worn clichés with startlingly original images, and the effect when married to his fractured melodies is akin to that feeling right before or right after sleep when things almost make complete sense, or no sense at all.

Henry’s band on the album is top-notch. Bill Frisell on guitar is becoming one of the most ever-present and sympathetic accompanists around whether it is folk/rock like Henry’s or jazz, blues, rock or country.

Likewise, the pedal steel ace Greg Leisz creates special accents in unusual ways. A string quartet is used on a couple of cuts but otherwise arrangements are spare.

Henry’s voice is an acquired taste, at times thin and whiny. But his heart is ever-present and he never fails to engage the listener no matter how obtuse or obscure he gets. He will reward the careful listener and repay close concentration.

The songwriter with the most promise, JOSH RITTER, is the youngest of the three, A native of Idaho, Ritter cut his musical teeth on the East Coast. His first few albums were mainly acoustic and folk-dominated. But don’t think of coffee houses or mopey introspection. Ritter is rambunctious and fiercely intelligent.

His brand new record, THE HISTORICAL CONQUESTS OF JOSH RITTER, is a grandiose title for a rollicking sprawl of an album. The album opens with a sprint, “To The Dogs or Whoever,” with Ritter invoking legendary references at a frantic clip. He gets his rock on with “Mind’s Eye” and follows with a sort of sing-along “Right Moves.”

Ritter doesn’t shy away from his religious leanings, but he never gets too preachy. The “Temptation of Adam” is allegorical and beautiful, making good use of moody horns to set a threatening undertow. His “Next to the Last Romantic” begs to be put on a road-trip mix tape with its unstoppable pace and sunny realism.

Many of the songs surprise with their inclusion of blaring horns, soft beds of strings and cranked-up electric guitars. Ritter really stretches out on this one and never fails to deliver. He is knowing without being arrogant, happy without being selfish, and sensitive without being masochistic.

Ritter, like Prophet and Henry, deserves much wider acclaim. You can start by putting their new ones on your shelf or computer.