Some 41 years ago this week, on a Sunday, I rolled out of my dorm-room bed at 5ish in the a.m., and stumbled across Penn State’s campus to the Sparks building, home to the college’s student-run radio station, WPSU (formerly known as WDFM), for my first on-air shift as a Folk Show deejay. Yea me, right?! I’ve shared the story plenty of times before, so won’t go in-depth about it here. In short: A month earlier, I’d spotted an “Interested in Radio?” ad in the student newspaper, the Daily Collegian, in about the only place I would have caught it: beneath Bloom County. One thing led to the next and, soon enough, I was spinning records three-or-so weekend mornings a month for a predominately older/non-student audience.
One More Winter, the sophomore set from Austin folky (and Rust Belt refugee) Rita Bliss, sends me spiraling back to those bleary-eyed mornings, which generally found me in studio by 6am. It’s a banjo-driven delight that serves invocations, contemplations, and confessions alongside tall tales and humorous asides. The opening “Come Along,” for instance, rolls out a welcome mat to potential immigrants to adopted home state. The whimsical “All My Days,” meanwhile, hones in a few reasons why Texas has her heart: love and hot sauce.
The gentle “Aimlessly” conjures Kris Kristofferson while dreaming of a domesticity, porch swings, and sweet tea, but all’s not upbeat: “Honey,” accented by harmonica, travels through an unwanted life detour that’s led Bliss to appreciate everything she now holds dear. The jaunty “Some Say” swings through worn adages and axioms counterbalanced by her witticisms. “The Highway” continues the humor while ruminating about the compromise needed to maintain a relationship. “Empty Houses” leans on memories: “I think of that old house as empty/I think about the walls we painted blue/I think about the days when time just got away….”
The band behind her, by the way, colors in and complements her musings to nice effect: Jimmie Scott Calhoun sings harmony; Dom Fisher handles guitar and bass; Noah Jeffries plays fiddle; Billy Bright strums mandolin; and Patrick Herzfeld brushes the drums.
The sweet “Sometimes She Sings” portrays—and forgive the pun—family bliss, sharing by example how our partner’s idiosyncrasies mean much to us. The lively “Red” expands into the territory of the tall tale; it’s a driving tune. “Silver City,” which closes the album, reins in the exaggerations, sharing a moving story about a prospector whose heart is tinged with regret. “I don’t want to spend my life in Silver City/Not when there’s so little to spend/Please don’t bury me in Silver City/I’m getting out of here before the end.”
The sonic suite, which is due out October 2, would have fit right in with my old radio show; it’s folky, fun, and heartfelt, with Bliss’ plaintive vocals always serving the songs. You get the sense that she’s singing just out of eye’s reach, perhaps from the front-porch swing. Highly recommended.
