’Till The Sun Turns Black

Ray LaMontagne could break your heart just by singing the alphabet. His voice, which sounds like it’s spent decades soaked in a vat of whiskey and tears, is a miraculous thing. All at once it can be uplifting, self-pitying, demonic and forlorn, and with ’Till The Sun Turns Black, LaMontagne demonstrates his increasing understanding of how to use it.
His Trouble debut was outstanding, with several songs that earmarked the troubadour from Maine (via New Hampshire, Utah, a constantly travelling mother and a violent musician father) as one of a batch of modern singer-songwriters poised to take up the mantle of Dylan and Van Morrison.
But occasionally on that album it felt like LaMontagne knew how special his talent was, but didn't quite know what to do with it musically. As a result he tended to play it safe. Tellingly, those moments when he didn’t yielded the LP’s most electrifying moments. Thankfully he takes more risks here.
Producer Ethan Johns returns and adds far more instrumentation, including strings and horns. with backing vocals from Rachael Yamagata on one track. Songs like opener ‘Be Here Now’, ‘You Can Bring Me Flowers’ and ‘Three More Days’ benefit greatly from this richer, fuller sound. The latter even features a guitar lick suspiciously similar to that of ‘How Come’ from Trouble, this time surrounded by a full band that lend it a bluesy, barroom feel. It’s as if LaMontagne and Johns are keen to show off how much they’ve learnt since they first worked together. Hell, they even find room for an instrumental – the haunting ‘Truly, Madly, Deeply’.
Lyrically the themes are similar: ‘Can I Stay’ is a lonely, plaintive love song, in which LaMontagne’s raw desperation is audible, while other songs see him musing on social class and war. The impact of that incredible voice may be dulled somewhat nearly three years on, but the result is a much more complete album that never loses sight of LaMontagne’s unique gift for sounding both completely modern, and from another age.