William Elliott Whitmore Isn't a Sad Singer/Songwriter (Anymore)
No matter how in vogue the genre may be (looking at you Mumfords, with a sidewise glare at The Lumineers), it's tough to stand out among the selvedge denim-wearing crowd. Tattoos? Everyone's got 'em. Suspenders? Grab 'em at Target. Punk past? Who doesn't have a Ramones shirt in their closet?
William Elliott Whitmore has got all that. A guy who came up strumming his acoustic in the punk scene and possessing a big gravel pit of a voice, he's emblematic of what's happening in "new folk" right now. Not that the tag sits comfortably on his shoulders.
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"I almost don't like the term folk," the 34-year-old songwriter laughs. "People think of James Taylor, and that's not what I do. I like James Taylor, but what I do is different."
Different? Maybe. Excellent? Yes.
Whitmore's latest, Field Songs, isn't going to freak anyone out of a No Depression mood, but it's a solid, knotty piece of work, a hard bite of old fashioned optimism. It's a good "election year" record, with a fierce centrist streak ("Let's Do Something Impossible," "Get There From Here," "We'll Carry On") that makes you want to clasp hands with someone who might not share your every view.
It's an overwhelmingly positive record, with lines like "the best of times ain't happened yet," a sentiment that flies in the face of our "woe is us" national mentality.
"I wanted to convey that, too," says Whitmore of the record's hopeful bent. "I've written a lot of records, and over time you change as a person. No matter what you're doing, hopefully you're changing and evolving. I've had a lot of sad records, a lot of sad songs, I realize, but I don't feel as sad anymore. I feel pretty happy. I wanted the music to reflect that. You can't sing sad songs forever. Singing the song is supposed to make you feel better, so if it doesn't make you feel better it's not doing its job."