I first heard Chris Smither in 1970. Not live, unfortunately, but on vinyl when picking up his first record I’m A Stranger Here Myself on the Poppy label, unheard, for the simple reason that it was Townes’ label. I figured — rightly so — any label that knew what a talent he was could certainly be trusted. It did not disappoint. The album not only included a future staple that would be covered by many folks — most famously Bonnie Raitt — titled “Love You Like a Man,” and the Skip James’ influenced “Devil got Your Man,” he also saw the untapped soulfulness in Randy Newman by covering two of his songs. That album, Poppy’s 14th release, was in heavy rotation with the four Townes’ records. His only other record for Poppy was 1972’s Don’t It Drag On. Interestingly enough, both albums were produced by the jazz-orineted Michael Cuscuna and jazz bassist Richard Davis. Those two albums were recently re-released on a single CD and I urge you to pick it up. (That great Poppy label also included Doc Watson — after he left Vanguard — as well as Lightning Hopkins and The Dillards.)

Like his other contemporaries, Tim Hardin, Tim Buckley, and John Martyn, Smither took took his folk roots and infused them with many other rhythms. While the other three explored and developed provocative jazz leanings, Smither took a bit more conventional, but no less musically successful, soulfulness with those blues underpinnings. (For the uninitiated, Buckley’s Happy Sad and Martyn’s Solid Air should be on your essential album list; unfortunately, Hardin never got around to putting that sound on record.)

I have seen Smither live many times over the years, most recently at the 2013 MerleFest, where he played mostly the blues. While Smither plays primarily his own material, he knows how to cover killer songs. It was at one of his shows many years ago that I first heard “Killing the Blues.” It remains a chilling memory, far removed from the way it has been covered lately, which you’d likely hear in a Starbucks, a sure sign something is MOR. You could feel his guts being pulled out.

At a later show, Smither told the tale of meeting the song’s unassuming writer. It seems he came up to Smither after a show and complemented him on his performance. Only after talking with him for a good while did he reveal his authorship. I have also heard Smither do the only cover of “Desolation Row” that can be mentioned in the same sentence as Dylan.

I usually like to say something about where someone’s been, as it gives his or her present a resonance. Nothing exists in a vacuum and, to acknowledge, celebrate, and perhaps reflect on 50 years of making music that includes fifteen previous commercially released recordings, at least one private recording and a couple of DVDs, Smither released his fourth album for Signature Sounds on July 22. It is a special double album, Still on the Levee, where he records new versions of 25 songs from his extremely rich and rewarding years of music. 

To get this out of the way first thing, sometimes folks do this either as a vanity project or because they have run out of ideas. Live on the Levee is neither of those. Nor is this, like Guy Clark for example, using it to reflect on his own mortality. For the listeners, it is a golden opportunity to hear most of his best songs in an ideal setting, relying on his accumulated knowledge and experiences of these many years, which give these performances extra dimensions that I call the patina of living.

You can tell a Chris Smither song from the opening chords; his laconic style was influenced by acoustic blues men such as Lightnin’ Hopkins and Mississippi John Hurt. He is the last of a generation who were fortunate enough to have been around those greats before their passing. While he does not overtly mimic them, you can hear their guiding presence. In an age when another generation of dime store cowboys want us to know how hard they are working, Smither’s unforced vocals go down like a single malt. 

Smither was well regarded by the musical intelligentsia even from the beginning, when Maria Muldaur and Bonnie Raitt, before they became household names, assisted him on his second album. For this special occasion, the closest he gets is the irascible Loudon Wainwright III and Allen Toussaint, with Rusty Belle and The Motivators — like I said, this is not a vanity project. And, to highlight his Boston beginnings, Morphine’s Dana Coilley and Jeremy Lyons, who have been, for many of us, MIA since Sandman’s death.

To complete these past 50 years (Smither was born in 1944), 2014 will also get a collection of his the lyrics, titled Chris Smither Lyrics 1966-2012 and a tribute album, Link of the Chain, featuring Ms. Raitt doing the signature song, plus Mr. Wainwright, Peter Case, Tim O’Brien, Dave Alvin, Patty Larkin, and friends from the Boston music scene.

What about the songs, you ask? Well, as I get older I find it harder to reel off those admiring tongue-twisting catch phrases that take the long way around to say how invigorating or essential they are. I find Smither, his songs and singular performances, to be self-evident. You should too. And, if your physical collection does not include some of his recording, this one is the place to begin. It’s a deluxe box set with a gorgeous book the size of a paperback, containing full credits, photos, drawings, and lyrics. If you own one or more of his fifteen other albums, get this one too. While the arrangements differ, this collection is like a collection of short stories by Alice Munro or William Maxwell. Once you begin one, you cannot put it down.

That said, “Leave the Light On” on disc one of this set is vintage Smither — a lilting, almost jaunty take powered by his acoustic guitar. The second more clearly highlights the devastating power so often hiding just beneath the burnished surface of Smither’s songs. The band sets up a slow smoky electric groove, and in an aching duet with Kate Lorenz, Smither sings, in his distinctive, honeyed growl:

I may live to be a hundred, I was born in ’44
31 to go, but I ain’t keepin’ score
I’ve been left for dead before, but I still fight on
Don’t wait up, leave the light on
I’ll be home soon

The effect is extraordinary; strength compounds strength, and leaves the listener feeling touched by grace, or an almost otherworldly wisdom.

Smither interview and performance on KUHM Radio:

Link of Chain: A Songwriters’ Tribute to Chris Smither:

1. Dave Alvin – “Link Of Chain”

2. Loudon Wainwright III – “A Place In Line”

3. Mary Gauthier – “I Feel The Same”

4. Josh Ritter – “Rosalie”

5. Paul Cebar – “I Feel The Same”

6. Eilen Jewell – “Can’t Shake These Blues”

7. Jorma Kaukonen – “Leave The Light On”

8. Aoife O’Donovan with Stephanie Coleman – “Small Revelations”

9. Tim O’Brien – “Origin Of Species”

10. Bonnie Raitt – “Love Me Like A Man”

11. Peter Mulvey – “Time To Spend”

12. Mark Erelli & Jeffrey Foucault – “Song For Susan”

13. Heather Maloney – “Call Yourself”

14. Peter Case – “Caveman”

15. Patty Larkin – “Train Home”