Amos Lee: Last Days at the Lodge

By Steve Morley

Singer/songwriter Amos Lee creates music that shares the quality of his unpretentious name—his generally mild-mannered sound calls no undue attention to itself. Accordingly, neither of his first two albums left any footprints on the Top 40. But with the release of Last Days at the Lodge, it becomes evident that Lee’s unassuming style is one of his strengths. It allows him to quietly lay groundwork for the kind of longevity enjoyed by fellow non-conformists like Bob Dylan, John Prine and Merle Haggard, on whose concerts Lee has served as an opening act. Like them, Lee overlooks commercial considerations, though the Philadelphia-based neo-folkie makes himself distinct by throwing vintage soul into the mix.

While the retro-soul romance of "Won’t Let Me Go" and the plainspoken "Baby I Want You" conform somewhat to type for classic R&B, "Jails and Bombs" layers an introspective and searching lyric over a smooth urban groove, a combination that recalls Marvin Gaye’s classic "What’s Goin’ On." While Gaye’s pleading commentary remains observational, Lee examines personal loss—seemingly war-related—before turning his gaze to issues like the lack of opportunity in the inner city, where the artist once taught elementary school. ("A ghetto landscape of famine and also of frustration/ With children walkin’ round without the proper means to education/ Still, up there on Capitol Hill, they’re passing all of this legislation/ For jails and bombs.")

Lee’s apparent understanding of society’s lower echelons allows him to sensitively take on roles that may or may not be based on first-hand experience. He heartbreakingly presents the remnants of a broken family on "It Started to Rain," but moves the lead character’s focus from personal pain to sympathy for others whose odds are no better than his own. ("The neighbors came and they bought what remained/ Of the life we built with love and with laughter/ And my heart started sinkin’/ ‘Cause I couldn’t help thinkin’/ Their fate would be the same…") On "Kid," a track that speaks encouragement to a young victim of abuse and disillusionment, Lee’s insight is so acute that it could double as self-talk directed at his own inner child. ("Don’t know how you keep getting’ up/ From all those ghostly blows/ And all the pain that lingers/ Deep down in the darkness where it grows/ I know how hard it is/ To keep your head up, kid…")

There’s a palpable alienation—a kind of inside-looking-out sensibility—on several songs, suggestive of an increasingly disconnected society. But the upside of that solitude is the notion that one person can make a meaningful impact. It can be done by lending a hurting friend a compassionate ear, a scene described over a back-porch banjo on "Ease Back," or through the grass-roots ministry detailed on "Street Corner Preacher." ("He got a new mercy, a new grace/ Street corner preacher with the angry face/ He got two years off for good behavior/ Back in the neighborhood workin’ for the Savior.")

In this jaunty country-blues depicting the caring deeds of an ex-con-turned-urban missionary, Lee highlights the redemptive potential of Christian rebirth and emphasizes service over evangelism. In fact, it may well be the politicized evangelical community he cautions against on "Listen," a scrappy funk-rocker that ominously pairs ringing church bells with the sound of baying hounds. Faith issues aside, it’s no surprise that Lee favors everyday servants over institutions. As he demonstrates on Last Days at the Lodge, a modest messenger can be a potent agent for healing and hope.

Audio Clips

"Listen"

"Won't Let Me Go"

"Baby I Want You"

"Truth"