Ralph Waldo Emerson famously said ‘a cynic can chill and dishearten with a single word’ – an opinion, listening to hope, that one imagines Michè Fambro shares. “I don’t stew in a cynical view, I’ll tell you why, I’ve got hope”, he sings, which in itself would usually be enough for this hardened cynic (I’m a repeat offender) to turn off. Luckily for me, though, Fambro, has a voice well worth listening to, and between the gaps the hardened voice of experience speaks – hope is as much an aspiration as a conviction for this stand-out musician. Remember David Wolf’s remark that “Idealism is what precedes experience, cynicism is what follows.� Fambro intriguingly hovers between the two poles, while he dazzles with his technical ability.
Fambro is a one-man performer, a gifted guitarist, and former drummer mixing jazz, pop, folk and flamenco. These recordings, more than anything, display personality. He reminds me, at times, of Ben Harper, or in his more soulful moments (and there are plenty on offer) of master Jazz man Olu Dara – not to forget, of course, Robert Cray.
Originally from West Philadelphia, Fambro has spent years as a journeyman player touring around the States and Canada. His latest album, Caf� Vignettes, was recorded entirely at home – and it sounds that way, in the best sense. When those great minds at MTV thrashed out the ‘unplugged’ concept way back, they would have benefited from hearing this album, an album that stands or falls on the quality of its songs and performance (they might have spared us some of the orchestra-stuffed-into-the-corner-beside-the-performer’s-ego performances which marred the valid idea).
Stand out track is A Bus ticket and American Flag which skilfully matches up the themes of travel and identity. It also perfectly marries together that hope and bitter experience already mentioned, and manages to be proudly patriotic without, ironically enough, engaging in flag waving. It’s a song that, on a very personal level, delves into what it means to be an African-American musician:
He’s a tom if he’s educated,
he’s a tom if he leaves the streets
Just watching time redefine what things mean
And what things used to be.
Strawman is another highlight – simple and sparse (like the rest of the songs on offer), but with a momentum and rythm that most rock bands would envy, and a vocal performance full of passion. Its melody and lyric are simple, and remain in the head and the heart long after the song finishes.
Spare some change is a mesmerising display of Fambro’s guitar playing, being largely instrumental (apart from the title’s refrain, and some skatting). Now, guitarists letting you know how good they are is rarely my cup of tea, but this is well reined in, ensuring that the end product is a song and not simply a showcase.
It’s not all good news, though. Always a good boy is based on a simple enough conceit – the cataloguing of various ‘bad boy’ stereotypes, before declaring himself a ‘good boy’. Musically there’s nothing amiss, but the whole song seems an exercise based around a flimsy idea.
Much better is the album closer Love Simple which reduces the age-old love song to a bare, vibrant, and excitingly fresh form.
Whether Fambro will manage to move from the local to a national and international audience is anybody’s guess. Given his ability to melt the cynicism from this critic’s ears, I can only hope so.