Article - Alela Diane makes herself at home
The folk singer infuses sophomore album with a sense of place
When not on the road, folk singer Alela Diane splits most of her time between Oregon and California, and a sense of place and geography plays a defining role in her lush songs. Her sophomore album, To Be Still, released earlier this year on Rough Trade Records, depicts the songwriter’s surroundings as vividly as it depicts the songwriter. “My songs are definitely informed by geography and where I am,” says the 26-year-old Portland, Ore., resident. “I definitely write about the things that are happening in that time of life, or reflecting back on dreams. Wherever I am, my songs will be shaped by the places I am.”
“Dry Grass & Shadows,” for instance, is one such tune. The gorgeously lilting song hopes for a return to a lost yet still attainable countryside, and Diane coos and keens over light banjo and guitar. And on To Be Still, Diane expanded her musical palette, growing beyond the basic acoustic guitar-and-vocals of her 2006 debut album, The Pirate’s Gospel. She credits the album’s recording process with influencing the sounds.
Unfussy violin slides through such songs as “Take Us Back” and “White as Diamonds.” Matched with the weary yearning of the lyrics and Diane’s thick-timbred voice, it’s tough to avoid comparing her to such American folk singers as Karen Dalton and Joni Mitchell. “Age Old Blue,” another geographically illustrative number, summons thoughts of the English folk revival of the ’60s, where singers like Sandy Denny let their voices conjure the rolling hills and slowly stirring dreams alike. That song’s a duet with singer Michael Hurley, whose plaintive creak offers lovely counterpoint to Diane’s pastoral lilt.
Pairing up suits Diane well. Her latest record is the six-song EP Alela & Alina, recorded with California singer Alina Hardin. Three tracks are originals, while three aren’t: Townes Van Zandt’s “Rake” and “Bowling Green,” originally popularized by folk heavyweights the Weavers, get wrapped in sorrow and woe, while the vocal harmonies on “Matty Groves” weave and intertwine like the song’s 17th-century adulterers.
At this week’s Atlanta show, Diane pairs up with bassist Tom Bevitori. Whether hers or others, the songs Diane sings ache for rural settings and days past. More than just backwards-looking nostalgia, they’re all the more urgent because of it.