Musicians Offer Keys To The Times

Paul Bryant Hudson’s ​“John” begins with a flourish of acoustic guitar, quickly buoyed by a cushion of organ and voices, a wash of percussion.

Then the beat drops, like a hammer. The intention is clear. ​“I was born with it / In my hand like / Like a hammer / Like a hammer in my hand / Driving dreams deep below / The crust and the mantle / Til’ they explode,” Hudson sings. ​“C’mon, John / C’mon John.”

The song ​“John” is an original from the New Haven-based musician, released for Juneteenth. In a recent social media post, Hudson wrote that “‘John’ is a contemporary folk reclamation piece — tracing the rich legacy of Black American art and activism through the lore of John Henry. ​‘John’ pays homage to the beautiful complexity of African American identity and the divine BLACK ancestral energy that fuels our ongoing fight for liberation.”

Hudson wrote ​“John” five years ago and has been singing the song around town amid sets of other original songs and covers. In 2017, he performed it solo with a keyboard as the opening to the New Haven chapter of the Sofar series. He mentioned in a recent interview with Eric Rey for the New Haven Free Public Library’s new Virtual Artrepreneur Series that he had tried to record the song a few times and ​“finally got it right.”

By the sound of the song, it was worth the wait. On organ, Jeremiah Fuller is all vibe, adding just the right texture and color. On guitars and bass, Tony Greco is by turns light and fluttering, then heavy and even a little menacing. On drums, Travis Hall delivers a deep, slow groove that lets the music hit hard and dig deep. All of it creates the space for Hudson’s vocals to take flight, weaving together pain and doubt with catharsis and freedom. Its words, carefully chosen, speak of loss and strength: ​“I was born with it / Like a shadowy chain / Where the crucifix hang / Don’t remember my grandaddy’s name / But I know who I am.” Its outro is all crackling organ and stabbing guitar, a musical statement that the struggle continues.

It’s a song that feel sharp, even crafted for our political moment, but on another level, that only feels like a coincidence if you haven’t been paying attention. The song, like the protests, reach all the way back through American history to show us where we need to go in the future. And for New Haveners who are fans of Hudson’s music, perhaps we can hope that ​“John” is an indication that, in the future, we can look forward to Hudson recording more of his original songs, which remain as timely as ever.

“I.,” the first song from Little Systems, the new EP from the New Haven-based Mystery and Manners, unfolds sweetly across its nearly five-minute duration, casting a spell as it goes. It starts with just voice and guitar, laced with gentle piano, ​“Our little systems have their day / They have their day and cease to be / They are but broken lights of thee,” the singer sings. ​“Hope is a bird that’s wintering.” The lines unspool from a few bits of Tennyson, but proceed from there straight into the present moment.

Mystery and Manners is a duo, with Berit Goetz on vocals and keys and Jamie Dougherty on guitar. Goetz just graduated from Yale Divinity School, studying religion and music there and at the Institute of Sacred Music. Artist and educator Dougherty manages a woodworking and visual art program for people with traumatic brain injuries. They have been writing music as a duo since 2013 and began performing in recent years, including at Cafe Nine. This spring they embarked on their first tour, which would have taken them to New York and Washington, DC and as far south as North Carolina. The shutdowns in response to the Covid-19 pandemic put an end to that. In April the duo responded with a virtual house show. And at the end of last week they released Little Systems.

The titling of the three tracks on the EP — ​“I.,” ​“II.,” and ​“III” — is apt, because the vocal line and lyrics are essentially the same for each song. But whereas ​“I.” rests largely on guitar and cello (played by Justina Sullivan), ​“II.” moves along on a river of more ambient sounds, while ​“III.” is lushly piano driven. The lyrics are more than finely crafted enough to stand up to such a treatment; they’re worth hearing three times. And the change in textures across the three tracks, perhaps best listened to in one sitting, really does make them feel like movements in a larger piece, parts of a larger whole. Like Hudson’s singular ​“John,” Mystery and Manners brings together despair and hope. They acknowledge the difficulties of the times we live in, and offer ways to get through them together.