A musical experiment filled with sound but lacking passion

Folk musician and singer Sam Amidon is known for turning old ballads and hymns into eerie, quavering, art-rock experiments. He succeeds even more than usual on his new album Lily-O, in large part due to the dream collaboration with jazz guitar legend Bill Frisell. Frisell’s idiosyncratic phrasing seems to traverse interstellar space while Amidon’s grainy voice brings the music down to Earth and conjures up Appalachian melancholy.

Though only 33 years old, Amidon comes by his folk roots honestly. Parents Peter and Mary Alice Amidon are folk and shape-note hymn artists from the Northeast, so Americana was in Amidon’s blood from the beginning. Of course, Amidon didn’t grow up in the time of our country’s newness, but in in the freneticism of the 21st century with its smorgasbord of musical styles. Amidon’s folk roots welded with post-modern movements like free-jazz and rock-jam bands such as Phish.

Perhaps the album’s Phish-iest moment is the opening track, a punchy old work song entitled “Walkin’ Boss.” After a blazing banjo intro, the drums begin to click, rattle, and groove while Frisell emits cleansing blasts of potent, warbling guitar. The rhythm section’s funky underpinnings threaten to break into a raucous rock jam, but Frisell is too much the gentleman and master to let chaos erupt. He keeps his power tethered and allows just enough out to shock and transform this folk song but not destroy it.

Amidon’s free-jazz influences can be felt particularly in the album’s head-scratching title track. “Lily-O” starts traditionally enough, with Amidon singing a capella about a woman and her suitors. As the tale turns weird, so does the music, with Frisell’s guitar making gasp-like squawks while a keyboard burbles dissonance. Although not graphic, the murder ballad lingers on for nine minutes to no real purpose.

Mining the musical veins of early American music invariably digs up a host of faith-based hymns and songs. Amidon includes three of them on this album. His usage, however, does not arise from any personal faith, but on the egalitarian basis of what makes a good tune. If his approach doesn’t stir a believer’s heart, it is, at least, absent the hypocrisy of many modern-day journalists and musicians who excise the musical heritage of Appalachia from the values of those who created it.

“Won’t Turn Back” is a moving hymn about the faithfulness of Jesus to guide through this world of woe. Amidon’s voice plods steadily while Frissell expresses a brooding determination suited to the sojourner’s resolution: “Sometimes the way seems stormy / And the road gets rocky / But I won’t turn back anymore.”

Famous hymn writer Isaac Watts penned the lyrics to “Devotion,” where Frisell’s ethereal playing supports the song’s otherworldly focus. Unfortunately, Amidon sings it deadpan—a fault common to much of the album. Amidon seems to forget the passion that people bring to their playing and praying and even betraying.

Sometimes Lily-O soars wonderfully, and sometimes it falls flat. In all cases, it illustrates the human connection that binds across culture and time. Although circumstances and environment change, some essentials remain the same: life is complex and difficult. Since Amidon includes faith in the experiential spectrum—even if abstracted and subdued—one can hope his listeners and he might eventually be seized with the realization that this world is not our home and with Isaac Watts go hunting for that “eternal world of joy.”