the arts
Michael Waite’s birdsong Big Bay musician releases new album By John Smolens The birds in the morning All seem to know my name… I got everything I want, ‘cept the one thing that’ll keep me sane
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own the path from Michael and Erica Waite’s house, Wilson Creek winds through the numinous greenery of early September very much like the melody in a song accompanied by running water and chattering birds. There’s little doubt that the new songs on Michael’s CD We Are Always Home, released in October, found their inception in these woods. True sincerity is rare these days; it’s often too saccharine or tethered to some generic emotion cropped to fit on a T-shirt or bumper sticker. Michael Waite’s lyrics are deeply, genuinely sincere, portraying the values of home and family and love, and the belief that place — in this case, the Upper Peninsula — matters. However, an undercurrent also runs through these songs, conveyed by unexpected rhymes and turns of phrase, suggesting darker, contrarian themes. At one point in “Bird Feeder Blues” Michael interjects, “I’m so sick of my ego/ I’m gonna try to rise above/I’m gonna listen to my heart.” This attempt to exorcise a familiar, petulant demon is filled with instrumental riffs which may at
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Marquette Monthly
first seem jarring, but soon it’s apparent that those notes on clarinet and stringed instruments work within the context of the song’s blues progression. While contemporary pop music often sounds like something built on a computer with high octane looper repetition and bits of recorded noise called samples, We Are Always Home is refreshingly “unpop”: each song features stringed and brass instruments, orchestral arrangements and rhythms meted out with “found object percussion” instruments. At the center of these tunes resides Michael’s distinctive vocals and acoustic guitar. His voice, by turns languid, plaintive, and ebullient, possesses the range and inflection reminiscent of The Band’s Richard Manuel. Michael plays his Guild acoustic guitar in the classic claw-hammer style that for generations has been the foundation of folk music. He grew up listening to recordings by guitarists such as Tom Paxton and Norman Blake, playing the tunes repeatedly, until he could imitate the finger-picking accompaniment. Not surprisingly, stacks of records lie about the house. It’s been a long time — decades — since I’ve come across a Buffy St. Marie album. I’m going out walking down a long steel blade To try and make sense of it all Laughing at the future and the mess that I made
November 2022
When there’s really only one way to fall
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ike the house that Michael and Erica built on Wilson Creek, We Are Always Home took years to complete. Most of the songs were recorded in the house, while the orchestral accompaniments were performed by local high school bands, and keyboard segments were recorded in St. Paul’s Episcopal Church in Marquette. With the exception of the traditional “Wayfaring Stranger,” and a brief rendition of Paul McCartney’s “Black Bird,” Michael penned all the compositions. He wrote the scores for the orchestras, resulting in songs layered with harmonic complexity. When discussing how songs originate, Michael talked about where he and his family lived, about the look and feel of the land around their home, about the seasons that pass through northern Michigan, and, indeed, about the birds that inhabit the forest. Each tune begins with birdsong, recorded by Michael, and it’s not difficult to imagine that some of those melodies might have first been suggested to him by warblers, wrens and seagulls. Furthermore, We Are Always Home is a collaborative effort, which is often one of the beauties of music. Friends and musicians came to the house, bearing an assortment of instruments and recording