They
can recite lines from each other's songs and finish each other's sentences. The look that
passes between them is one of absolute recognition, of a bond so pure and deep that those
on the outside can only shake their heads and know that they are missing out on something
wonderful.
They
aren't lovers. They aren't even brothers. They are, first and foremost, folk singers.
They
are Ellis Paul and Vance Gilbert, former roommates, longtime favorites on the Boston folk
scene and, perhaps, soon to be nationally known musicians. They are making headway as solo
acts, touring the country and bringing their music to audiences both urban and rural.
Yet
while their careers send them, more often than not, in opposite geographical directions,
when they reunite, as they do on a recent autumn afternoon in Paul's Medford apartment, it
is clear that this is a relationship that distance will not, cannot, touch.
"Hey buddy," Paul calls to Gilbert as the latter lets himself in to his former
residence, trailed by his girlfriend and a rush of fall air.
"Buddy!" Gilbert returns, seemingly oblivious to the reporters and managers
assembled in the sparsely decorated living room. "What's up! Whatcha doin',
buddy?"
Embraces aren't necessary to understand the link between these two men. It's written on
their faces and etched in their voices, a joy at seeing each other again after any length
of time spent apart. Now, especially, with both singers perched on the anticipatory fence
between coffeehouse anonymity and widespread recognition, there is reason to enjoy these
reunions.
They
seem, at first look, an unlikely pair. Born and raised in Presque Isle, Maine, the
33-year-old Paul - a descendent of a long line of potato farmers - left his hometown for a
track scholarship at Boston College. An athletic career-ending injury sent him in a
musical direction, which has proven to be a wise detour: Paul is a seven-time Boston Music
Award-winner, not to mention the recipient of numerous other folk accolades.
Gilbert, 40, is a Philadelphia-bred musician and one of the few black artists to truly
connect with the singer/songwriter genre. He made his recording debut with
"Edgewise" on the Philo label in 1994 - two years after Paul's Eastern Front
debut, "Say Something."
But
despite their potentially gap-producing backgrounds, the pair's friendship has flourished
since they first met at the Naked City Coffeehouse in Alston in 1989. And not only have
they grown as friends, they both declare that they are better musicians as a result of
their relationship.
"There's inspiration going on, definitely," says Paul. "I've borrowed from
Vance many times. It's affected the way I perform. Trying to balance humor and some
serious songs, doing stuff off mike - a lot of that stuff is 'cause of Vance."
"I'm probably the better musician," Gilbert allows. "He's the better
songwriter."
"I don't know," muses Paul. "I'm more of a lyricist than Vance, maybe, but
I don't know if I'm a better songwriter. It's six in one, half dozen in the other. We work
in different ways."
Clearly. While Gilbert is best known for his comedic, slightly wild, always
entertaining live performances, Paul has made his mark on the folk scene with his ability
to tell detailed stories with his songs. And though they say they borrow musical
strategies from each other, though they've shared an apartment in which they were both
working on music, Paul and Gilbert insist their work will never become too similar.
"There's really no chance of that," says Paul. "I could outright try and
rip him off and it would still not sound like him."
But
that doesn't mean that a little of one won't rub off on the other.
"There's a song called "Fly," says Gilbert. "The first eight lines are
basically written in such a way that if Ellis Paul were writing it, this is what it would
sound like.
"I remember calling [Ellis] up and saying 'I have this image of this guy sitting at a
coffee table,' " Gilbert continues. "And Ellis said, 'What's going on with the
coffee table?' And I said, 'Well, I don't know.' And he said, 'Is there dust on the coffee
table ? Is he writing a name in the dust on the coffee table?' 'Cause I was
stuck."
"Can I get a co-write on that song?" jokes Paul.
In
fact, the pair is not adverse to collaboration. They plan to play a number of dates
together in the spring, although Paul admits that while he enjoys sharing a bill with his
friend, it certainly makes his job more difficult.
"It's hard to play with Vance because Vance is such a big thing on stage," he
explains. "A lot of people bitched about having to play with him because he steals
the show. But it's like living together, it's just like a conscious decision: If we want
to do it, let's just do it."
"He's strong enough to stand in the gale," Gilbert jokes back. "Don't you
know that if I follow him, the singer/songwriter ante is up. I have two choices to make: I
can either come out as a total buffoon and supersede the whole singer/songwriter thing, or
I can come out and do a bunch of material that has some sort of merit."
"What I'm trying to do after I follow Vance is to not even think of him being
there," Paul responds. "I don't watch. We did a show together in South Carolina
and he was pissy because he was opening for me, and I came in and he said, 'I'm going to
kick your ass,' and he absolutely kicked my ass. And he told me he was going to kick my
ass and I made the mistake of watching him do it. I could tell he was in this sort of
megadrive. I went out there and I was a deer in headlights. And the crowd knew it. And
I've been trying to rebuild myself in that town ever since."
When
they were living together, before Gilbert moved to Arlington to reside with his girlfriend
Deborah, the two spent plenty of time playing and singing. But, surprisingly, Gilbert
didn't do much songwriting in Paul's Medford digs.
"I only wrote one song here," he says, gesturing around the apartment.
"[Ellis] came into my room and I had this blank journal and he said, 'Look at that, I
bought you that and you haven't written in it.' And I said, 'I'll write a song in it
before the day is through.' And he said, 'Well, I dare you.' And that's what I did; I sat
down to write a tune. And it was done by the end of the day. And that was the only tune
that I wrote here."
Both
Paul and Gilbert insist that their friendship has been less about competition between two
musicians than it has been an impetus to simply do better work.
"Competition has such a negative connotation in many ways, but it just forces you to
up the ante, sort of ratchet it up," Gilbert explains, turning to Paul. "There's
definitely room for everybody. If you get something and come back and say, 'Hey, I nailed
something or other,' there's this wave that goes through me of "Doggone, I wish it
was me' - which we all have.
"And then after a microsecond of that, [I'm] totally elated with the idea that my
buddy is going to pull this off," Gilbert adds.
Paul
and Gilbert recently wrote songs for each other: "Taking it all to Tennessee" on
Gilbert's recent "Shaking off Gravity" album, was written when Paul left Boston
to live in Nashville; Paul wrote the title song for his new disc, "Translucent
Soul," about the irrelevance of race in his relationship with Gilbert.
And
the two don't worry about their closeness being interpreted as anything but a friendship.
As long as their relationship continues to thrive, it doesn't really matter what anyone
thinks it is.
"It's great to have a relationship, like a friendship of the same sex that isn't a
couple, because you know it's going to be around." Paul explains. "Relationships
come and go, but friendships, real friendships that are worked on and supportive - and he
and I have been through a lot together - it's like, yeah.
"It's a constant," he adds, "so it's good."
Ellis Paul plays a CD release
concert at the Somerville Theatre on Dec. 5 at 8 p.m. Tickets are $15 - $17. Call
(617)628-3390. Vance Gilbert plays Club Passim, Cambridge, on Dec. 18 at 7 & 10 p.m.
Tickets are $10 & $12. Call (617) 492-7679.
CNC Arts Writer Christie Taylor
contributed to this story
Article taken from the December 1 - 7, 1998
issue TAB Arts and more. This article is copyright of TAB Arts and more and Tamara Wieder.
No copyright infringement intended.
