Lamothe scores with orchestrated spontaneity

In 1945, the film "Detour" emerged without fanfare from Hollywood's series of B-movie studios referred to as "poverty row." Since then it has embedded itself in the cultural consciousness of America, achieved critical acclaim and has been selected for preservation by the Library of Congress although it was a practically budget-less production featuring unknown actors, just a few minimal sets, a single exterior, stock footage, wobbly back-projection, literally funny editing and the clumsiest noir dialogue you can imagine.

It remains a haunting and unrivaled testament to pure storytelling and something that, once seen, is not easily forgotten, both for its flaws and its merits.



Local mainstay Kim Lamothe has achieved something similar, albeit on a much smaller scale, with her debut disc, the self-produced "Philodendron."

Brendan Whipple, playing stand-up bass, is frequently much too high in the mix. His instrument clips, her instrument clips. In places, her voice is much too low; in other places she stops singing altogether and lets Ani Difranco take a verse or two. I'm assuming that the sound between tracks, whether it's rain or a projector flicking, is intentional, because it works. It all works. From the banjo that is out of tune with the other instruments, to the odd fingerings that send a spiraling buzz through a track here and there, it works.

The recording was done live between Lamothe and Whipple, with additional instruments, the banjo, some harmonica, guitar layers, dubbed in later. The effect is that of a live performance in which Lamothe's rhythmic ability carries meandering riffs through a ramshackle selection of songs that are not recited but expressed.



A well-instructed ten-year-old with the right material can sound mellifluous behind a piano and nearly any well-funded recording artist can overproduce otherwise meritorious work into a state of dull irrelevance, not that Eric Clapton reads this.



To accomplish what Lamothe has accomplished here requires something else: her reputation as a fierce and engaging live performer preceding her, she has constructed something as spontaneous, as impossible to anticipate as being in the zone: behind a mic, in front of a crowd, twenty minutes into a forty-five minute set in your favorite bar; something you can't get for $17.99 at any music store anywhere in the world and something you can't contrive for any amount of money whether you're Coldplay or The Arcade Fire. "Philodendron" offers something different, entirely: orchestrated spontaneity, the prevailing feeling that much of what you're hearing is being created on the spot and belongs to no individual or space.



To borrow from the graffiti lexicon, the production is a tag, the songs are throw-ups, but the performances are pieces. And then, just like that, the disc is over. Like "Detour," getting it out of your head is another thing.



Kim Lamothe plays Courthouse Center for the Art on Oct. 2, as part of the Cappuccino Music Series.

Visit www.myspace.com/kimlamothemusic By G.W. Mercure