Michael McDermott

He’s a minstrel. A troubadour. A bard (which Webster’s New World
Dictionary defines as “an ancient Celtic poet and singer of epic poems”). His Irish ancestors may have called him a seanchai, the Irish word for storyteller. Whatever you call him, though, singer-songwriter Michael McDermott spins a great yarn. The fact that the music he makes to accompany his stories is his own blend of rootsy folk-rock is just an added bonus.

To McDermott, the story is just as important as the music. “I was ranting to someone the other night that words don’t mean anything anymore, really,” he laughs. “I think words have lost their meaning, or have become so watered down in their meanings. I hope to bring the importance of the word back. People don’t talk in stories anymore, they speak in sound bites. I want to tell stories.” His new album, Last Chance Lounge, does just that, deftly weaving broken-down dreams, redemption, fear, hope, struggle, and acceptance with colorful characters and vivid imagery. It’s a journey to another place, peopled by folks we all know and emotions we’ve all felt. It is at once familiar and real, both comfortable and disconcerting in its
honesty.

It is likely that it’s the Irish in him that prompts McDermott to visit his
inner seanchai. “Storytelling and story elaboration are such a part of our heritage, so I think it’s only natural that it would affect me.” He was raised in the south suburbs of Chicago, the youngest of four children, and the musical muse didn’t come knocking until he was in eighth grade. “I saw the Rolling Stones play and that was it. I saw Keith Richards and I just wanted to be like him.” He started playing guitar and would often find himself playing piano in the music hall during lunch period in high school.

McDermott broke onto the music scene at the tender age of 20 in the early ’90s and was hailed by many as the next Dylan or Springsteen. A hit single (“A Wall I Must Climb”) and accompanying MTV Buzz Bin video brought his first album (620 W. Surf) a great deal of early attention. After a switch of labels (from Giant/Warner to SBK/EMI) and two albums (Gethsemane and Michael McDermott) exploring some darker themes, McDermott found himself the victim of what many artists fear: a label closing its doors for good. “When the first record didn’t really take off, I became a very dark, bitter, 20-year-old kid. My second record was a reaction to that, an artistic statement really. It was a spooky album in many ways. By the third record,
I was creeping further and further into a shell.”

Time and distance from the circumstances brought a brighter outlook and optimism, and plans to do things his way. McDermott opted to release his next album himself, and the result was Bourbon Blue, which came out on Wanted Man Records in 1999. The grass-roots success of Bourbon Blue, which sold over 10,000 copies in the Midwest, sparked the interest of Koch Records, who then signed the performer. His album for Koch, Last Chance Lounge, includes five remixed and remastered songs which were released previously on Bourbon Blue (“Murder On Her Lips,” “20 Miles South Of Nowhere,” “Hand Of The Hunter,” “Junkie Girl,” and “Bourbon Blue”), as well
as eight new tracks. Last Chance Lounge was produced by McDermott and Joe Hardy (The Replacements, Steve Earle, Tom Cochrane).

The first single from the record, “Junkie Girl,” is an examination of a
former girlfriend, who was a heroin addict. “I got hooked on her. People who have seen her lately tell me she’s not looking too good. I guess she was a casualty of that kind of life.” Perhaps the most poignant song on the album, “Annie And The Aztec Cross,” is also one of McDermott’s favorites on the record. “It’s a true story about a girl I know who got AIDS. Without sounding overly dramatic, it’s a tough song for me to even sing. That’s my litmus test. If it gets to me as the writer, that’s a good sign. That rarely happens.”

From the melancholy wail of the harmonica-laced “Gettin’ Off The Dime” to the tongue-in-cheek, rollicking “Unemployed” (“Say hallelujah, I’m overjoyed, I’m drunk again and I’m unemployed”), from the haunting “Murder On Her Lips,” to the yearning “Thinkin’ About You,” McDermott visits a varied musical and emotional palette on Last Chance Lounge. “The lyrics always come first,” he reveals. “Then I try to find something musically to support it. I know that seems kind of backwards, like building the house from the roof down, but I have to find something musically that works with the words.”

And the music he makes? Well, McDermott calls his sound “Dylan-meets-U2” and “folk-rock.” While he may wear his influences on his musical sleeve, Bob and Bono and Co. are just two of many on his list. Bruce Springsteen, Tom Waits, Van Morrison, and Peter Gabriel all figure heavily among the musicians who have shaped his musical vision. And you can hear bits of them sprinkled among his songs.

Over the years, the press has been kind to McDermott: “[He] may well become one of his generation’s greatest talents,” wrote the Washington Post; “[His] powerful writing and new-found enthusiasm are a potent combination,” heralded the Chicago Tribune; the New York Times called him “a major new talent.” He counts among his fans author Stephen King, who penned liner notes for his self-titled third album. He has opened for the likes of Richard Thompson, Toad The Wet Sprocket, Jars of Clay, The Cowboy Junkies, and Seal, and has appeared on “Late Night With Conan O’Brien.” But, so far, he has remained just under the mainstream radar. McDermott hopes that Last Chance Lounge will change that.

“I haven’t given up the dream of selling a lot of records. As I get older, I just want to make a living, and I just want to be able to write songs. I’ m not bitter anymore, but I also don’t want to settle, to be some kind of a footnote. I’d like to make an impact. I’m confident and feel very happy with this record. I like to think that if there’s anything I could bring to the party, it would be a different point of view, a different way of turning a phrase or telling a story.”

Spoken like a true seanchai, indeed.