- Music
- 01 May 01
Seems like downtown Buncrana and upstate New York aren't so far apart after all. At least not on Kevin Doherty's map. He manages to tiptoe between both with a dexterity that'd have been the envy of Astaire.
Seems like downtown Buncrana and upstate New York aren't so far apart after all. At least not on Kevin Doherty's map. He manages to tiptoe between both with a dexterity that'd have been the envy of Astaire. In fact, Strange Weather is the ultimate in bilocation: all the wildness of Donegal fused with the langorousness of Levon Helm's Woodstock. Kevin Doherty's travels have surely taken him to interesting places.
Doherty's debut has him taking the deep breaths that he somehow never quite managed in the midst of Four Men ... A Dog. Strange Weather's pace is infinitely more considered, its identity more rooted, and its palette considerably more eclectic than anything Kevin Doherty has captured in studio before. It's a discriminating mix of loping guitars and understated vocals.
'Need For You' launches the album with an able magnum against the prow. With a guitar that's more louche but still reminiscent of Luka Bloom's patented driven style, it exits stage left with a deftly naked harmonica, courtesy of Doherty himself.
From there on, Strange Weather meanders along a route that wears many of its influences baldly on its sleeve: it doesn't take a bionic ear to spot the Neil Young influences on 'Is This The Summer' or The Band's on 'Mary J' (both spiritual and tangible in the form of Rick Danko) and 'Need For You' (with the genius of Levon Helm lent to the drum set).
But the real meat and potatoes of the album are saved for later. 'Feel Skin' is a sublime do-wop in disguise, a gentle meditation on lovemaking with Doherty's voice whispering the kind of sensuality that, previously, only Leonard Cohen has conjured.
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After that we're in Van territory, on 'All Aboard'. Aaron Hurwitz's Hammond and Randy Ciarlante's muted percussion echo Doherty's insistent repeated meanderings, punctured by stalwart Gerry O'Connor's weaving violin.
And that's when Kevin Doherty enters the fourth dimension: in the company of Dog-pardner Gerry O'Connor. It's here that the full depth and breadth of his songwriting and singing shine incandescently.
Strange Weather delivers on all its promises. Doherty's a fine force to be reckoned with now that he's at the steering wheel. And the beauty of it is that he's steering well clear of all primary routes.