I’ll be honest – the idea that a past mythology elevates one’s personal predilection of something current to the status of “idyllic” is preposterous. There’s been quite a lot of talk about graceful singer songwriter Jonathan Wilson, whose soothing autumnal vibe has been grossly linked to the seventies Laurel Canyon state of mind. But like any sacred place that gets overly habituated, that modest rustic refuge overlooking the congested Los Angeles landscape eventually lost its authenticity once artists were lured by hedonism and big paychecks – I mean, didn’t the disdained Studio 54 disco scene suffer the same exact fate? Coming up with such descriptions does a great disservice to Wilson’s scrupulously arranged compositions. Yes, he may have earned his stripes as a wandering soul (whose life trajectory seems written by an empirical biographer), but that same sense of mystery is what’s most alluring. Without a doubt, Wilson is a talented musician, whose rationale is richly detailed with naturalist wit and tender phrasing against inviting warm guitar strums and the occasional overdriven blues lick. His latest release, Gentle Spirit, is a serene (and necessary for those who want to delve into rock music in its purest form) aural experience coming from an artist who is refreshingly out of touch with our times. I may be tad hard on the basis of Wilson’s romanticized persona, but I’m sure he would agree with the sentiment.
