Chris Smither is singularly important in my taking a left turn from listening to rock and roll as a kid to going to college where I discovered a lot of folk music in the mid to late ’60s. Chris Smither then performed a hybrid of folk and blues. Six decades later, he’s still writing great songs that fall into the same category on his latest album All About The Bones. Like fellow Boston folk singer Tom Rush, he was and still is just left of center in melding folk and blues, his major influences being delta blues singers Lightnin’ Hopkins and Mississippi John Hurt.
In our interview, we talked a lot about being old. I tend to follow Clint Eastwood’s mantra: don’t let the old man in. Chris, on the other hand, stares his mortality straight in the face. It’s a recurring theme of his new album, his first in four years.
“You go through most of your life saying your life is going to end someday. That’s the theory, right? Then, you get to the point where it’s actually a concrete thing. Things sort of creep up on you. You’re not as strong as you were even though you try to keep up. I have problems with my heart. They got those straightened out, but they keep recurring.
“John Pareles has this little Friday review of new singles and stuff that he puts in The New York Times. When ‘What About The Bones’ came out, he chose that as one of the five songs he wrote about that week, and what he said was, ‘Chris Smither has been confronting mortality for decades in his writing. Now, approaching the age of 80, he’s more convincing than ever.’ I thought it was kind of wonderful.”
For me to interview Chris Smither is akin to a rock journalist reaching into the great beyond to parley with Elvis Presley, except Chris is still with us at age 80. While he’s not a major star, he did rub shoulders with Bonnie Raitt who recorded his song “Love You Like a Man.” He met her at the home of a friend of mine, the late Dick Waterman who was dating her at Radcliff when he booked blues acts through his Avalon Agency in 1969.
“That’s a pretty good one, although I wrote it when I was 23. My best songs are ones that I wrote much later. A very popular song of mine, ‘Leave The Light On,’ has been covered a couple of times, but not by anyone really big. It gets a lot of time on Apple Music.
“It’s a money maker. You don’t get paid a lot for online stints, but I think it’s close to eight million at this point. For me, that’s pretty good. That’s a good song, too. I’ve always liked ‘No Love Today,’ a cinematic song. I’ve always thought that song should be in a movie. It’s not a really popular one, not really a big hit.
“Those are two I think represent me pretty well — although All About The Bones, the newest record, has some of my best stuff on it, I think. ‘In The Bardo’ I can hear a lot of people singing that one.
“Jorma Kaukonen has a guitar jam I taught every year for 20 years or more. I was teaching guitar and also talking about songwriting, and I would tell the guys that were budding songwriters you don’t think of the song and then write it down. I have to start writing, and then I think of the song. Even though you have no idea what you’re putting down, keep scribbling. It will come to you. You look at it, and all of a sudden there will come a point where you say, ‘Ok, ok, I see what it’s for,’ you know? It’s an organic process. It’s not a situation where you have to think it out ahead of time and you just write it down.”
The pivotal moment in Chris’ career came in 1967 when he had just moved from New Orleans to Boston. One of Boston’s best-known folk singers at the time, Eric Von Schmidt, told Chris that he should make the move.
“I used to get laughed at in New Orleans. They didn’t laugh at me, but they thought I was a little odd. ‘Why are you playing acoustic guitar? Get yourself an electric.’ Then, I got up to New York and Boston, and all of a sudden, I was part of a larger thing that knew exactly what I was talking about.
“I got to Boston in June of 1966. I played Club 47 the first day I was in town. That was a total fluke. That was the only thing I knew about Cambridge was Club 47. I was riding around with a woman who had a car. She also played guitar and sang, and I said, “Well, let’s go over and see Club 47 because Eric Von Schmidt said, ‘Go to Club 47 tell Jim Rooney I sent you.’ So, I went to Club 47. Talk about serendipity! That night Eric Von Schmidt was playing.
“I went to the door. I couldn’t believe my eyes because it said Tonight: Eric Von Schmidt. Holy shit! There was this really tall guy at the door. He was nice enough. He says, ‘You coming in for the show?’ I said, ‘Well, I’m a friend of Eric Von Schmidt. He told me to come here and tell Jim Rooney that he sent me.’ And he looks at me and says, ‘Well, I’m Jim Rooney (Laugh) and Eric’s in the back. Go on in.’
So, that woman I was traveling with and I went in. He was in the back, and I think Geoff Muldaur was there. Von Schmidt looks at me and says, ‘Chris, what are you doing here?’ I said, ‘Well, you told me to come.’ He said, ‘I guess I did,’ and we talked. He introduced me to people back there.
“He was between sets when I got there, and he said, ‘Hey, ya have your guitar?’ I said, ‘Yeah, I do.’ He said, ‘Go out and play like three songs. I’ll get Jim to introduce ya.’ And so Rudy goes up and says, ‘Eric Von Schmidt has a friend. He wants you to hear a couple of songs.’ I played three songs. My first night in Cambridge, and I’m already on stage at the 47. Of course, I didn’t get on stage again for a couple of years.”
Fifty-nine years, scores of albums, and several world tours later, Chris is still at it, as good as ever. “I don’t think I’m having a hard time (at age 80.) People come up to me and say, ‘Man, you look amazing.’ I just came back from the hospital where they rearranged my heart rhythm and got me back on the straight and narrow. They would come and look at me, and think they were in the wrong room.” People tell Chris he looks 55 to 70 years old. “I mean my father was the same way, and he died when he was 91, and people said, ‘But you look so young.’”
