Stephen Clair: Press

One of the Top 50 albums of 2003

(Berkfest 2003) Rock singer-songwriter Stephen Clair is also a must-hear, especially for fans of Lou Reed and Jonathan Richman. Clair -- who is scheduled to perform on the mainstage on Saturday at 12:40, used to call Albany home but fled for the concrete pastures of New York, which has clearly fed his muse on his great new CD, "Little Radio," which features gems like "Blame It On Your Town," “Dancing in New York,” “Fatten Your Landlord,” and everybody's favorite, “Jen in Her Underwear,” all rendered in catchy, Velvet Underground-style guitar rock -- the sound of the concrete sidewalks.

A big chunk of Michael Hall, a smaller piece of Townes Van Zandt and some common ground with Buffalo Tom.

Stephen Clair handles a guitar pretty well himself. The New Yorker's wry voice and well-observed songs recall those of Texans like Robert Earl Keen and James McMurtry.

"Clair’s an articulate local folk smoothie who sings at least one pretty song about a woman’s undergarments."

Stephen Clair is a smart singer-songwriter who has opened for Vic Chesnutt, Richard Buckner and The Gourds among others. And for good reason since the songs generally gel from the onset of "Gone Ten Years", a weary track that, as Clair sings, proves he's in no hurry. "It's a Riddle" is a funky, Sheryl Crow-like pop track that is a tad forced, not utilizing Clair's strong points. After a few listens it should grow on you. He finds the best of both worlds on "My Heart's Not Broken" that Lucinda Williams would consider covering. ... "The Moon" fares slightly better as he eases himself into the sparse, earthy, campfire ditty and the jerky but jaunty "Following Orders" that sounds like it was done in one take. "You can't catch a raindrop in a moth-eaten hat" he sings during the latter tune. When Clair is front and centre ... he stars with "A Woman Like You" that comes from the Kevin Welch school of songwriting. Happy go lucky during the swaying, catchy "Tomorrow's Another Day", Clair hits his stride perfectly here.

Clair is based in New York City but plays the kind of turbo-folk that's usually associated with the heartland. Clair's "Little Radio" CD opened ears last year and a new one is in the works. A clever wordsmith and a fearless performer.

A masterful songwriter, Stephen Clair has the skills to write tunes that are both deeply personal, yet surprisingly universal. While many artists try to be impressive, Stephen keeps it simple. On his latest album, Under the Bed, his words do the talking, and the music compliments rather than overpowers the songs’ message. Stephen captures the idea of songwriter as storyteller; each song gives a glimpse into his life, and into our own. He has a way of using words to speak about common themes in different ways. Clair crafts insightful songs around ordinary things, like the moon. “As you pass by the window just cover your eyes/ because the moon wants your soul to go bump in the night” (“The Moon”)

You rarely,as I mention in the editorial, hear an entire album being played on the radio, but you could hear all 11 tracks of this one if you tuned into, ah well, that's the catch, you'd have to tune into 11 different stations. Which is a pretty neat compliment when you think about it—11 different DJs came to completely different conclusions about which was the best, most playworthy number, so between them they said the whole thing was woorthwhile. From upstate NY, the Brooklyn-based singer-songwriter made some local noise, thanks to support by WFUV, with his 2003 debut Little Radio, but Clair, as Jim Beal Jr. remarks, "plays the kind of turbo-folk that's usually associated with the heartland." Something about his voice, laconic phrasing and dry wit reminds me of James McMurtry, for whom he's opened, and like McMurtry he's a mean hand with acoustic and electric guitars, though he's been unlearning a lot of technique since hearing that Woody Guthrie thought that using any more than three chords was just showing off.

This east coast songsmith writes intelligent and poetic songs that have about them a certain fluidity that engages the listener. His songs don't depend on complex musical changes or other embellishments to the story; they depend on the storyline and the heart expressed in the story itself. His songs have a ring and sensibility of the east coast to them, as opposed to spaces and twang of the Texas songwriters, to hold him up to just one other group. They are tightly written songs and each is its own little vignette, which is straight and pure. They have an honesty that comes only from having the experiences firsthand, rather than looking at some situation he might have heard about, saying, "That's a great idea for a song," and inventing a story to fit the circumstance. It's the little touches in the songs make then real. In Gone Ten Years, the image of grandma going out and throwing nails in the street so he'd get a flat and they could meet, that is what makes it realistic. There is nothing that is groundbreaking musically here but there is more than an abundance of good songs that have that ring of authenticity. It's a disc that definitely seems to stay longer and longer in the disc player; a quiet gem that sneaks up on you.

This guy from Northern New York State who now lives in Brooklyn sounds an awful lot like Austin-based James McMurtry…go figure! Or more to the point, go listen. Clair’s songs are often sardonically droll as they get down to business with a catchy hook and a clever phrase. The drawling vocals are perfectly backed by guitar playing that’s liberated by the excellent rhythm section. It’s literate and fun with a funky Americana sound.

Alt-countryish troubadour Stephen Clair settled in New York after stints in towns ranging from northern California to southern France, and he belongs in N.Y.C. given that his ramshackle style and laconic vocals recall such aloof Gotham rockers as Lou Reed and Television's Tom Verlaine. Clair's second LP Little Radio is loaded with chugging rhythms and sputtering guitar, packaged with either incidental abrasion (as on the rowdy “Come on Baby”) or delicately woven beauty (as on the low key “Lemonade”). And though Clair's nasal voice and simple melodies are designed to appeal to an audience of smart, graying-at-the-temples punkers, his lyrics are witty and direct enough for anyone. Choice cut: "Jen in Her Underwear," which captures the giddiness of waking up alongside a new lover and knowing that the good times have just begun.

Stephen Clair is the alt-country troubadour for the 21st century. His songs are playful reminders that the new breed of alt-country followers are big city folkies rather than down home roots writers

Clair's witty but simple lyrics are really the grabber; they'll get your attention and hold it for the entire album.

Clair is laid-back - yet very New York, proving that's possible.

Stephen Clair packs his new album, Little Radio, with smart singer-songwriter tunes that are lyrically direct and melodically tight. …quite the troubador for the No Depression set.

This listener got sucked in by notions like "Blame It on Your Town", with the idea of turning the sour lemons of your life into "Lemonade" and by Clair's homage to "Jen in Her Underwear." Check out this dude.

Singer-songwriter Stephen Clair wears his self-styled role of “urban roots troubadour” loosely and likably on his new CD, Little Radio. After stints in such hipster hangouts as Austin, New Orleans, and San Francisco, Clair has set roots down in New York, and much of Little Radio has the sprawling, sweet-sardonic flavor of Lou Reed in New-York-telephone-conversation mode. As with Reed — to whom Clair has a more than passing vocal resemblance — the sweetness is often more barbed, and the sarcasm more wistful, than you might expect. Giving a thunderstruck, worshipful love song the title “Jen in Her Underwear” is one way of establishing your earthy urban-romantic bona fides. Elsewhere, in the song “Lemonade” (as in “When life hands you lemons …”), Clair swings back and forth, seeming to want to admire his heroine’s resilient, practical-minded optimism while conceding that it does drive him a little nuts. (To read more, click on the link)