Longevity is on Sam Amidon’s side. His consistent, contemporary folk styling has stretched from All is Well to now, Salt River. Ten studio albums in and Amidon still holds firm in those wide-open, emotionally charged pieces of work. Tender arrangements and a honed focus on acoustic guitar work, the desire to be what he is not, all come together on this latest album. Guided by religion in some spots and the beauty of nature’s calm embrace for others, Salt River is a well-balanced flicker of light in an otherwise dark world. A brighter tone is taken for this Amidon release, clear as can be with instrumental opener Oldenfjord, which, above all, sounds like Amidon has returned to his cultural home. It comes after calling time on years in the bustling Los Angeles, a break for the UK and the serene beauty overwhelms.
What it means for Amidon is his skilful, instrumentally layered folk aesthetic has roots. Skilful folk work is now a mere foundation, the excess of emotionally charged exploration of the self, the backdrop of natural beauties, is needed. Amidon has plenty of this. The joys of life and those old church yards on Three Five lend themselves to religious impact, the faith which feels so closely tied with those sun-kissed mornings and fog-strewn evenings. But these are not just straight acoustic folk songs. Amidon has applied an instrumental range, now expected but still a great joy to hear, to the likes of Big Sky. Tremendous production quality steers the highlights – usually the instrumental sections which get their hooks in early and bring about stomping, innocent fun, like Tavern does. A real highlight of Salt River comes from this instrumental slot, a jazzier take on folk sounds. Not the genre, but what you hear out there while travelling those moss-covered trunks.
Placement is far more important to the feel of Salt River than performance. Whatever it takes to get a listener into the green, green fields is never too much for Amidon, who often presents bold instrumental cacophonies or stripped-back, wispy vocal experiences. Contemporary folk beauties are a fundamental of the Amidon style, and the truth he provides, those honest interjections of drowning in overwhelming pockets of his life, are fragile. This risk taken in detailing those doubts is not just a chance to kindle a deeper moment with a listener but a moment to use the backdrop of slowed, well-instructed instrumental sections as a chance to step outside of guilt and confusion. It happens for Golden Willow Tree, an essential and neatly placed piece.
Salt River is not just a mixture of slowed tones and jazzier contemplation but songs of a traveller. The words of life on the road or, at least, topics of wandering intent. Lead single I’m On My Journey Home is a great hint at what more to expect from Amidon on Salt River. Where Cusetta is an exercise in vocal intonation rather than writing, like Bob Dylan’s Wigwam, the real joys of Salt River come from the picture Amidon manages to paint with his successive instrumental displays. Folk depends on sleight of hand. Those cups clinking and the sounds of idle chatter on Friends and Neighbours are stretched to their limit but provide the homely spirit of folk at its very best. Amidon has more than a few moments of great instrumental scope here, all of it feeling its way back to the warmth of walks on the tame side.
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