Leif Vollebekk
Revelation
Secret City Records
The world is full of sorrows, but it takes an artist like Leif Vollebekk to turn that sorrow into a contemplative center where we can all collect, reflect, and get over it already. That’s my takeaway from the first track from this Montreal, Canada based male singer/ songwriter/ vocalist’s album, Revelation. For all I know, he arranged the album and did the cover art as well.
Despite the feisty words, the opening track, “Rock and Roll,” sounds to me like a sadly sung song created by an imminent breakup. Track two is even slower, sadder, and maybe even a tad depressing. That depression is only in the lyrics, but not in Vollebekk’s tune. His vocal remains strong, and momentum remains forward-moving. On “Southern Star,” he intones solemnly, as I sit and contemplate. This is a good album for contemplation; it’s a little slow and often down beat, but with occasional sparkles of joy lurking behind the clouds. The sun might just come out in a few more tracks.
I now see a structure to these songs. A slow quiet intro, just audible, leads to a gradual increase of energy as other instruments drop in. Vollebekk’s voice then rallies the tonal troop to stand by, then react. Now the full orchestration kicks in to a complete Sisyphean attack on the sadness, hope, and remembrance of the good times.
Some of our best memories of the old times float on the foam of a decent Pilsener, consumed in the semidarkness at the end of the bar in our regular seat. You have the barkeep trained, three beers, and then the check. We all know tomorrow, we will return and keep fighting sadness. And Mr. Vollebekk will hold our seats, and order another round.
Leif Vollbeck remains our anchor, and we all are the story he sings.
