Chris Smither is just the opposite of many musicians who migrate to New Orleans to further their careers. He grew up in the Crescent City; his father was a professor at Tulane, and he even won a folk Battle of the Bands in 1960 while still at Benjamin Franklin High School. A few years later, Smither’s idol, Eric von Schmidt, encouraged him to pursue the burgeoning folk scenes in New York City or Cambridge, Massachusetts. Smither chose the latter and eventually became a fixture on the New England folk circuit. In 1972, Bonnie Raitt recorded his song “Love Me Like a Man,” establishing him as a highly regarded songwriter.

Now in the twilight of a long, storied career, Smither’s 21st album shows he’s still a prolific songwriter, with eight of these 10 tracks being originals. His subtle, nimble guitar picking is solid as ever, and there’s usually a beautiful, feathery solo waiting around the next bend. As evidenced by “Down in Thibodaux,” Smither still holds esteem for his former home state with the yarn about a beer-guzzling, fiddle-playing eccentric, Boudreaux, who can only be visited by bateau (boat). Smither sprinkles in other French words too, like ‘chapeau’ for hat, and ‘crapaud’ for frog,’ but here referring to a kid or younger person.

With Smither approaching octogenarian status this November, it stands to reason that a good portion of the album examines his own mortality. Sometimes, it’s twisted, such as “All About the Bones,” where in the end, you’re just a pile of bones anyway. Other times, the imagery is ghastly and haunting. On “Still Believe in You,” he sings “I will not grow old without a hand to hold,” the struggle to keep one foot plodding slowly in front of the other, but with the support of a loved one. While death is inevitable, Smither freely accepts it, such as on “Completion,” which hints that one’s earthly presence is only a part of a longer journey. “It’s not the end of a run /it’s just a place for resting,” he sings. “In the Bardo” echoes a similar sentiment; Bardo being the Tibetan Buddhist term referring to the transitional state between death and rebirth. What else hints at aging are Smither’s pipes sounding weathered and weary.

The rendition of Tom Petty’s “Time to Move On,” one of the album’s two covers, lightens the emotional load. It’s a spry, up-tempo number that shows whatever path Smither finds himself on, he will do so willingly in good spirits. While subject-wise, it’s not the most comfortable listen, the recording is of quality with his tight, supporting squadron that includes ethereal background vocalist BettySoo. On some tracks, a mysterious saxophonist named Cheekus adds a degree of edginess, an interesting juxtaposition with the stringed instruments. Still, you got to hand it to Smither. He embraces thoughts and realities that we otherwise would rather not face.

Chris Smither