The upper bout of Tift Merritt's main guitar -- a Gibson B25 which, from 30 feet away, looks like it's probably older than the 41-year-old singer-songwriter -- is scarred and scraped; a patch of the finish has been worn through. And the lower bout is protected by a heavy aftermarket pickguard which one suspects was applied as remedial measure.
While in concert, Merritt, a small woman with hands as delicate as butterflies, seems to have a light touch on those sounding strings, it's obvious that she sometimes digs deep and hard to pull her sound from that cradled box of steel and wood.
She and Eric Heywood -- who accompanied her on steel guitar ("a Williams," one gear-centric audience member pointed out during a brief back-and-forth with Merritt) and his own flattop Gibson -- were perhaps not shown off to their best advantage on Monday night at South on Main. It wasn't their fault, but something in Merritt's high timbre, a confident bel canto keen which settles into a silk-ripping rasp in her lower register, wanted to be received less as language than as melody. For some reason that we puzzled over during the drive home, the lyrics themselves were lost.
And that's a shame, for Merritt is a songwriter of the highest order, and her words generally reward close listening. But one would have to have been more than a casual fan to have fully apprehended some of her new songs (she's got a record coming out soon) of which only "My Boat," based on a Raymond Carver poem, made much of an impression on the side of the brain that processes language. What the rest were about I couldn't tell you, and though my calloused ears may be suspect, others around me also struggled to click into the proper frequency.
But who should complain about hearing Merritt sing and play, even if the English lit component is lost? She is a very interesting rhythm guitar player, moving her capo up and down the neck to find gossamer voicings, and a supple singer who is able to carry the emotive flow of song. She could have been singing in Russian; we still would have got the idea.
And, while the new material may have worked better with subtitles, those familiar with Merritt's catalog had no trouble latching on to the gospel soul piano treatment of "Good-Hearted Man," which she performed solo, perhaps having sent Heywood to check on her newborn daughter. (She just started this tour with the baby in tow; Little Rock was the second show, she said, where the child was backstage). Similarly "Bramble Rose," a signature song from her breakthrough 2002 album connected with the crowd.
It was pleasant to be in South on Main, summer light slanting through the big windows, as Merritt embarks on something that feels a little like a comeback. She is a remarkable artist, and while Monday's show had a relaxed, toe-dipping quality to it, you could feel the humming presence of power in reserve.
Metro on 08/02/2016