 |
 |
|
|
What:
El Deth Showcase with Henry Gibson, Obadiah with the Weekends, Twinkibots with the Tenderhooks, Matgo Primo, and Lemon Drop Kid
When:
Thursday, Dec. 9, 8 p.m.
Where:
Blue Cats
Cost:
$5
|
Shying Away
Singer-songwriter Henry Gibson ducks the limelight
by Molly Kincaid
As autobiographical as his music is, one might expect Knoxville singer-songwriter Henry Gibson to be more narcissistic. But at this Saturday lunch interview, he keeps changing the subject—from his crush on a wispy girl picking up an order at the Tomato Head counter to his passion for Elliot Smith’s music—anything to avoid talking about himself. Finally, we ease into the subject of his background—the 25-year-old moved from Florida to North Carolina and settled in Knoxville a few years back because, “I was following a lady,” he concedes with a shy smile.
That relationship ended, as did many others. It’s apparent that Gibson doesn’t have the best luck with women, and he obviously uses songwriting as both a diary and solace to escape his crushing bashfulness. Many songs on his demo recount his trials with the opposite sex, laden with the sentiment typical of a guy that gets his heart trampled mercilessly, because, well, he keeps putting it out there.
“I’m the boy she can’t want, and she’s confused, so she will use me ’til I feel abused, and she’ll walk away with someone else,” is a line characteristic of his downtrodden lyrics. But for all their melancholy, Gibson’s songs are propped up by almost-jubilant musical parts, prismatic with layer upon layer of intermingling guitars, keyboards, drums, violin, and vocal sounds like humming, ooh-ing and aah-ing.
Gibson’s songs are audibly calculated with the perfect amount of each element, sort of like ingredients in a multi-tiered cake. He achieves this formula and level of control through recording the majority of the parts himself, rather than leaning on a band. “I record to a quick-track, then go back and record all the other parts separately. It’s great. It would probably be boring to most people, but I don’t know, it’s fun to me,” he says in his usual self-deprecating manner.
His tendency to record everything himself, and the fact that he does it all at home rather than in a studio, stems not from freakish control issues; it’s quite the opposite, in fact. “I’ve thought about getting a band together to play my songs, but I feel weird telling people what to do,” says Gibson.
Despite this fear, the complexity of Gibson’s music forces him to come out of his shell to collaborate from time to time. He raves about the musicians who played certain parts on his demo album: Natalie Kimbro on the violin, Tre Berney on drums, and Brent Layman on the keyboard. Those and various other musicians accompany him at live shows occasionally, though he often performs solo acoustic shows.
Gibson also collaborated with El Deth, a burgeoning Knoxville recording company, for one track on his album. The song, titled “Rainy Day in Nashville,” is more rocking than the majority of the otherwise dreamy album, but its lyrics still embody Gibson’s signature self-doubt. The now defunct Chelsea Horror, which Gibson was a part of, also recorded a song with the company. “I really like the guys at El Deth. I’d definitely like to record with them again,” he says.
The implications of Gibson’s Achilles’ Heel-like modesty include an unfortunate fear of singing in front of other people. “When it comes to singing, I get nervous. I’m afraid people are going to laugh at me,” he says. This is ironic, because his voice is mesmerizing, swaddled in an endearing huskiness reminiscent of Matthew Sweet.
This anxiety was so intense when Gibson started playing guitar in high school that he flat out refused to sing. “Pretty much everything changed when I saw Elliot Smith perform in ‘98. It inspired me to sing in some way...but it was also out of necessity, because no one else wanted to sing, so I figured I’d give it a shot,” he says.
His voice may be achingly sweet, but the real star of the show is Gibson’s knack for musical arrangement. Though all the songs on his demo are impressive musically, “Ashley,” an ode to one of Gibson’s many blundered relationships, is the highlight. Its effervescent melody could be a soundtrack to a child’s dream, as it glows and bounces with a palpable innocence. Its airy high-pitched humming and unexpected tempo changes are most closely comparable to the whimsical songs of The Beach Boys, whom Gibson cites as a major influence.
Besides conquering his performance fears and becoming a ladies’ man, Gibson’s immediate goal is to put out his first solo album. In fact, the El Deth show this weekend, in which he’ll play with Kimbro and Layman, will be his last performance until he’s finished with the project. It could be a while, considering his process of recording. But Gibson isn’t in any hurry. He says prophetically, “Lately, I’ve been coming up with a lot of melodies, but I’m still searching for the words.”
December 9, 2004 • Vol. 14, No. 50
© 2004 Metro Pulse
|
|
