Pat Kearns' So Long City on CD

If I had any sort of musical talent, I might've put out an album like Pat Kearns' So Long City. He sings about the things I've lived through, such as moving to new places, trying to make and keep new friends, being on the road, getting away from it all and leading a simpler life. Like me he's a hobo at heart, not necessarily folksy in a Woody Guthrie sort of way but just sort of perpetually in motion, restless and looking forward to noticing and mentally cataloging all the new vistas. Even the chord progressions on his acoustic guitar are vaguely familiar--like I've stumbled onto them before while practicing. As a result, I made an immediate emotional connection with these songs, one I didn't expect.

If I could sing, and I really can't, I might even sing like him. He has an affable and clear voice, sort of a mix between Jeff Tweedy and Bob Weir, with just a touch of Jeff Buckley for the more dramatic moments. There's a likability here that seems to bleed through the fairly conventional song structures, like you're finally getting to see the hometown kid on a big stage and he's far better than you thought he'd be.

Turns out I've heard Pat Kearns before. He fronted the Portland band Blue Skies for Black Hearts for many years, and I reviewed his CD back in 2014. Kearns had focused more on a power pop sound back then, very much in the mold of Big Star. So Long City delves more deeply into alt-country--it's driven by acoustic guitars, pedal steel guitars and even the occasional Dylanesque harmonica. It's surprisingly breezy and it goes down easy.

Kearns' lyrics can put too fine of a point on his themes, as if he's quickly scribbling his thoughts down as they come. He's not obscure or overly poetic. In "From Promo Queen to Queen Bitch," the one odd cynical track on the album, he starts off "Let's get drunk/That's what your invite said/But you didn't mean it/You'd rather I be dead." It's hurt he's singing about, not misogyny, bitter regret that might be misconstrued by more literal listeners. (That reminds me of an old girlfriend who freaked out when she heard Wilco's "Via Chicago" that starts off with the line "I dreamed about killing you again last night." No, I don't like this. Not one bit.)

Ultimately it doesn't matter since the album ends on such a strong note with the gorgeous and lyrical "Will You Come With Me Where I Go." This is where the aforementioned Jeff Buckley emerges in Kearns' voice and he feels like he's putting everything he has into this song. I'm not talking about belting it out a la "BabopbyeYa" but rather settling into a beatific rhythm and letting everything you have to say gel into one perfect little tune. Every time I play it for other people, they ask "Who is that? It's good."

Indeed it is.

Blue Skies for Black Hearts on CD

"Keep On Keeping On." Doesn't that sound like something you'd say on a cloudy afternoon--maybe back in 1974 or 1975? It's an optimistic notion--we're kind of screwed right now but the sun's gonna come out by the weekend. That's how I, in retrospect, look at my life in Portland. I lived just outside of that wonderful city for a couple of turbulent years and I loved the way people dressed in the brightest of colors when the weather was the wettest and the grayest, which was basically most of the time. I loved all the whimsical touches everywhere--the sex-crazed donuts and the big neon reindeer on the bridge and the flip-flop/parka look. That's when you sort of notice that Portland is a city of paradoxes, or it least it strives to be. It's that ironic duality, and it's the thing.

Blue Skies for Black Hearts is a Portland-based band, and with that name, it must be. "Keep on Keeping On" is the opening cut on their new eponymous album, and it's a naive pop song on the surface but wears a scowl when no one's looking. The CD, coming out in mid-July, has that sunny afternoon power pop wistfulness that's trying to evoke Big Star, or at least Teenage Fan Club, but when this quintet loosens up and forgets themselves, they might even sound like the Monkees led by an older, wiser Buddy Holly. (Charismatic front man Pat Kearns even wears the big black glasses to cross that T.) That's the relaxed, pure pop vibe these guys want to project--let's have some, at least until the rain clouds roll in and everything gets serious, or at least way semi-earnest.

If this album, the band's sixth, seems centered around Kearns, that's because it is. Kearns is noted for rotating musicians in and out of BSFBH, with the focus on clever songwriting. In this respect you can hear the Big Star influences in the lyrics--it's simple basic pop thoughts but told with a sincerity that elevates the song. Unfortunately that focus is also applied to the lo-fi sound approach--this album stretches the idea of late '60s pop into a rough, almost minimalist production that might sound its best on a small radio on the beach. The audiophile in me wants more, but I might also be missing the point. I like this album so much I want it to sound more alive, that's all.

In Portland, this band is definitely a local favorite. One game the Portland fans like to play, it seems, is comparing BSFBH to a wide variety of musical legends--the more over the top, the better. I've mentioned the Monkees, Buddy Holly and Big Star, but I've seen other critics mention everyone from John Lennon to Brian Wilson. If Portland is anything, it's wry. It's also pessimistic and sardonic, yet upbeat and amused. That's the paradox again, and this band is the soundtrack for that realization.