Mike Delevante’s September Days is the kind of album that sneaks up on the listener. Like the month referred to in the title song, the music’s allure lies in its delicate mix between what was and what happens. September exists on the cusp. It’s when the heat of summer and the coolness of fall meet; when one returns to school or work and reflects on the past yet looks forward to the future. The baker’s dozen self-penned story songs express the mix of feelings one has during a time of change. Or a place of change…
Delevante hails from New Jersey but has lived in Nashville for many years. He shares an affinity with Bruce Springsteen in finding the poetic essences in the details of quotidian reality, whether it be the snow on the beach in the off-season or what is good about a good cry. While Springsteen famously sang about walking one step forward and two steps back during a difficult period. Delevante’s protagonists take two steps forward while heading one step back.
Life is a dance where the time between the one and the two is when one gets to enjoy just having one’s arms around one’s partner. The Nashville influence can be found in this mellowness. Delevante’s characters are openly wistful and sentimental (as compared with Springsteen’s romantics).
The opening lines to the record are “I’m used to the waiting.” Several tracks explicitly address this in-between state of consciousness. As their names suggest, “The Rains Never Came”, “Sunset”, and “Going Home” exist at the moment of stasis. Their lyrics and imagery reveal how the past informs the future, like the rain that never happens, what occurs at the end of the day, and returning to the place one left. Other cuts, such as “Still Me”, “Adeleine (September Days)” and “Don’t Count Me Out” also exist at this juncture of before and after.
The musical accompaniment captures the sound of being in the moment through ringing guitar licks and steady percussion that seem almost static in their constant movement. Think of it as an aural kaleidoscope where one sees it all even as one twists the mechanism to create new designs.
The album was produced by Joe Pipsapia (Guster, Ben Folds, k.d. lang), who also plays guitar, keyboards, and pedal steel on the record. Delevante sings lead and plays six- and 12-string acoustic and electric guitars, Garry Talent and Will Honaker provide bass, and Bryan Owlings and Jamie Dick supply the drums and percussion. The music captures the melancholy mood when the seasons change, and lingering becomes its own reward.
Delevante is a craftsman. “It’s still me,” he declares in the cut with that title. The 13 songs here are deceptively simple in their language and approach, describing the interplay of thoughts and emotions one has just being in the moment. Our lives go on, yet we never outgrow who we are. He knows it’s never too late to discover ourselves even in the September of our days.
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