He may not arrive at his high-school reunion via helicopter, but Harris has plenty to show for his life. Like the Grammy Award he won for Song of the Year in 2003, for his original "Don't Know Why," which made a megastar out of his friend and colleague Norah Jones.
And then there's his band, Jesse Harris and the Ferdinandos, who recently released their fifth album, While the Music Lasts (Verve Forecast). Prior to his ascent into the spotlight, Harris and his cohorts took a pretty laidback attitude toward self-promotion. "We had this weekly gig, every Monday night, for two years," Harris recalls. They self-released three CDs, but only peddled them at shows and on their website. "Some people put out their own records, and do radio promotion, drum up publicity... I would just put mine out, and that was that."
The success of "Don't Know Why" changed that situation considerably. The Ferdinandos' fourth full-length, 2003's Secret Sun, was praised by the press for Harris' concise song craft and gentle vocals, both of which recall troubadours as diverse as James Taylor and the sorely underrated David Poe.
For While the Music Lasts, Harris opted to take advantage of his good fortunes, and make a more ambitious record. Whereas every other Ferdinandos record had been about everybody showing up at the studio and winging it, this one took a lot more planning, he explains. "I wanted strings. I wanted horns. I wanted more backing vocals, more piano. More sounds, and more variety."
A recipe for disaster? Fear not. Harris' sublime pop sensibility is only enhanced by assistance from string arranger (and Beach Boys alum) Van Dyke Parks, horn charts courtesy of Sex Mob's Steve Bernstein, and Seattleite Bill Frisell on guitar. The opener, "Wild Eyes," kicks off the set with bluesy swagger and grit; on the lilting title tune, marimba and lap steel conjure up images of beachside fantasies far more refreshing than any Corona commercial. Still, for all the album's accouterments, only one of its 14 cuts, the lurching, theatrical "Mirror Ball," clocks in at over three-and-a-half minutes; the lyrics to "More" make haiku read like The Fountainhead.
Don't expect bells and whistles at Harris' Seattle show at the Tractor (Fri Sept 17 at 9 pm) either. To save costs, he's traveling with just an upright-bass player. He'll be leaving his Grammy Award at home, too, right where it always is: in a box, in a closet. "I don't want to see it every day. It just seems silly," he shrugs. "Maybe if I ever have an office, I'll put it in there." n
