Le Ren: Leftovers

Le Ren – Leftovers

Secretly Canadian – 15 October 2021

Regular Folk Radio readers may have noted how I greeted Le Ren’s Secretly Canadian bow, the Morning & Melancholia EP, with unbridled enthusiasm, likening its atmosphere and the Montréal-based Lauren Spear’s voice, delivery, and songwriting to the esteemed ilk of Karen Dalton and Kate Wolf. “Yeah, it’s that great,” I gushed, “and amply illustrates the potential for Le Ren to be a huge star in roots circles.” Fourteen months on from that stunning introduction, I’m delighted to report that Spear’s full-length debut, Leftovers, more than bears out the mouthwatering promise dramatically displayed on Morning & Melancholia’s four exquisite, heartrending songs. In fact, if I may be so bold, I’ll proclaim Leftovers as an instant timeless folk classic.

In a nutshell, this is premium folk music – with a tinge of country – of filigree delicacy and emotional heft, enveloped by an overall mood of misty-eyed nostalgia. Elegant, yet rustic, it is lush and sparse at once, with gorgeous, Robert Kirby-esque chamber arrangements alongside fragile acoustic material of minimal instrumentation. The lyrics, all deeply personal, mainly examine life’s relationships, ranging from a tribute to Spear’s mother in the pretty, breezy first single, Dyan, to the platonic, or even those not yet formed, as in the lovely slow waltz, Who’s Going to Hold Me Next? Some of the imagery therein is most poignant, the opening verse of the tender heartbreaker Was I Not Enough? being a typical example:

I’m down to crying just once a day when I wake / And sure, a tear hits the floor when I open the door / To the home that we made / All our memories are fading away.

Aside from the personal, there’s also the odd subtly delivered commentary on other matters, such as the ecological message in the second verse of Your Cup:

All the trees have turned to paper / And I wait to press my pen / For if I pencil poorly / How could I make it up to them?

Delivered in Spear’s impassioned, soulful voice – which casts its spell upon the listener from just three seconds into the opening Take On Me – even the most direct language within these songs hits with considerable profundity. As exhibited to devastating effect on Morning & Melancholia, this young woman’s voice is a potent weapon, obviously front and centre in respect of the emotional impact of her quiet, beautiful songs. And yet, while Spear is still a couple of years shy of 30 years old, she boasts the performance and compositional maturity of a veteran, so as a vocalist and songwriter is already drawing valid comparisons with Joni Mitchell, Vashti Bunyan, John Prine, and Neil Young, as well as contemporaries like Adrianne Lenker (whose Big Thief bandmate, Buck Meek, makes a [guitar] cameo here, following his and Le Ren’s collaborative cover of Gordon Lightfoot’s classic Early Morning Rain in February.)

Besides Meek, an eye-popping troupe of musicians was assembled to assist in bringing Spear’s material to fruition, albeit remotely, to deliver their individual contributions from all over North America. For starters, the reverb-soaked Annabelle & Mary Anne is a duet with the wonderful Tenci, whose 2020 debut, My Heart is an Open Field, is a personal favourite. The great Kaia Kater makes an appearance on banjo, and the Prince Rupert, BC-based old-timey/bluegrass artist, Saltwater Hank, provides fiddle and guitar. Eliza Niemi, formerly of leftfield popsters, Mauno, brings her sublime cello to proceedings, and the pedal steel is courtesy of Aaron Goldstein (Donovan Woods / Zachary Lucky / Daniel Romano). Montréal’s (highly recommended) Cedric Noel chips in on piano and nylon string guitar, and Dyad / Holler’s Kori Miyanishi delivers mountain dulcimer, banjo, and fiddle flourishes from sessions recorded on Spear’s former base of Bowen Island, BC. Producer Chris Cohen (Deerhoof / Cass McCombs / Weyes Blood) recorded Spear’s vocals and acoustic guitar in a rented house in Portland, OR, in April, his services also extending to the addition of guitar, bass, and drums om the album.

You’ll have gleaned that like Morning & Melancholia’s four gems, I love this collection of songs, but trust me that there’s plenty to love here. Attaining an innate understanding of folk (and bluegrass) traditions from an early age, the rewarding consequence is that with this first album Le Ren, née Lauren Spear, appears to have arrived fully formed – not that she and her art won’t or needn’t evolve from this point on, of course – so what future gold she’ll lay upon us is an enticing prospect indeed. I don’t got a lot to say / But I’ve got a lot to sing, she croons in Your Cup, and in respect of that apparent mission statement, I for one will remain all ears.