The title of CT singer/songwriter Owen McMahon’s latest release is a good indication of what listeners can expect to come from the tight twenty-four minute EP: a down-to-earth maximalism that McMahon has honed through extensive performance at humble open mics across New England and Greater New York.
He’s not secretive about his influences. In “The Greatest Singer-Songwriter You’ve Never Heard Of,” which he jokes is “not about me [McMahon],” McMahon lists them almost exhaustively by name while describing a mythically talented and yet unknown songwriter playing in a dive bar: Bob Dylan, Bruce Springsteen, Neil Young, Noel Gallagher, Tom Waits, Jason Isbell, Josh Ritter, Frank Turner, Brian Fallon, John Prine, Woody Guthrie. McMahon playfully and harmlessly mocks this crowd of legendary influences, describing the way they might mock and jeer at this hypothetical “greatest” singer-songwriter. “Neil Young and Noely G they rolled their eyes, highly sarcastic; ‘You’re no Tom Waits for no man,’ throws his hands up says ‘I’ve had it,’” he sings.
Like most of McMahon’s songs, “The Greatest Singer-Songwriter You’ve Never Heard Of” vacillates between humor and heartbreak. “It was all filled up with sweet talk and self-deprecation, and ended up in hard-won, happy-ending adoration,” McMahon sings, describing the greatest songwriter’s first song during this hypothetical set.
That McMahon describes the best songwriter this way is no surprise—listening to his songs, one easily realizes that “hard-won, happy-ending adoration” is his particular MO, as is heard in the song “Break-Up on the Pony Express,” which describes an aspiring novelist who falls in love, and is subsequently heartbroken, by a New Englander named Paul who initiates the separation via Pony Express. “It’s about a long-distance text breakup, but when they only had Pony Express, and it goes like this,” McMahon begins, before singing the “new” song to an open mic crowd in Middletown, CT. Any frequent attendee of New England open mics recognizes the nervous charisma, the trepidation of an obscure creative sharing an intimate part of themselves, in McMahon’s stage banter.
Your correspondent is not typically fond of songwriters who give preambles to their songs. I’m more of a “play it and let it stand for itself” kind of person. However, McMahon’s songs, carried by strong narrative, witty turns-of-phrase, and playfulness, are more than worthy of brief introduction—particularly “Break-Up on the Pony Express,” which transports the listener to 1860s Kansas for its setting. The stylistic choice to provide context fits the EP’s aesthetic: live, bare and very human performances of songs that are artfully crafted without crossing the line into being cerebral or abstract, played to crowds who are likely experiencing these songs for the first time.
What McMahon lacks in pristine vocal delivery is more than adequately made up for with precise and intentional guitar playing, arresting lyrics with clear and idiosyncratic enunciation, and a clear knowledge and appreciation for the history of folk music on the part of McMahon.
“I ate a spicy Italian sandwich today and I think I’m gonna die, so this might be the last thing I ever do,” McMahon opens one track. Listeners can hear scattered laughter in the background, heightening the charm of the EP and its live performance structure.
“The Voice Memo Demos, Volume II, ‘Live and New at Open Mics’” is an important example of what is possible for DIY musicians in Connecticut and larger New England. McMahon proves that strong narrative, charismatic performance, and presence are what is truly important when capturing music, particularly a genre as down-to-earth as folk music. The recordings are not studio quality, but they don’t have to be – we are in the room with the lucky open mic crowds that happened to catch Owen’s sets, and we experience the banter, the awkwardness, the crowd’s hesitation and subsequent convincing, and the beautiful transience of live performance.
Extensive analysis of each of the EP’s tracks lies outside the scope of this limited review, and it would also negate arguably the best part about the EP: the listener slowly discovering and being won over by McMahon’s honesty, humor, and originality. The release is a surefire way to add humanity to a commute, to laugh and cry as one cooks, or to just enjoy some damn good songwriting.
matt nilsen 