The Optimist was recorded in 2013 across three California locations: Los Angeles, the Bay Area, and Murphys. Grover had produced a diverse collection of songs since writing the last album, in which he indulged his interests in dark storytelling and love songs, both joyous and forlorn. The self-produced album took the full year to record, soliciting performances from studio musicians, local musicians, and friends old and new. The result is both a personal passion project and an eclectic mix of genres featuring stellar musicianship and powerful vocals.
Reviews
Album Review by Vickye Fischer
‘The Optimist’ as a title stands as a stark claim for all Grover Anderson’s material to be judged upon, yet by its nature it also informs one’s listening and interpretation of the songs on offer. It can make songs that initially come across as one way, such as opener ‘Sick of You’ (regarding a long-distance relationship) and ‘Dancing Slow’ appear more positive than they are, or perhaps alternatively reveal the positivity for what it truly is. With a strong sense of storytelling and emotional understanding, Grover does more to tell a tale than he does on how you should feel about it. Yet that’s not ‘The Optimist’ is devoid of emotion. There are times when its titling feels sarcastic, such as on ‘Handle The Lonely’ which reads as a confession of anxiety, and on the desperation of ‘When You Come Near’. But it also allows the spotlight to shine on some of its sweetest tracks, such as the devoted ‘Enough’ and ‘Little Spoon’.
Grover has been working on this album since late 2012 alongside an incredibly talented crop of varied musicians, and one of the primary take-aways from this album is the incredible diversity of sound. Grover possess a gritty, folk rock voice which tends to place much of the music in a vaguely 90’s rock vein, yet with a fundamental difference; saxophone adds both an 80’s sound at times, while at others brings a jazz influence. ‘Pick Up Your Horn’, featuring Jimbo Scott, includes a banjo and a country folk style that reflects the story of a banjo player who attracted crowds from miles around, and ‘Little Spoon’, the lovely closer, is a sweet acoustic ditty that plays the innocence off the passion and drama of ‘The Lampolier’.
There’s also a quirkiness that makes itself known in the latter. The first single from the album, there is a sense of the influences of Jack White that come wafting from its make-up, both sonically and lyrically. ‘Philip Marshall Cates’ too weaves a rich, lush, complex landscape of events and people, all set to a strangely jovial backing with soft rock and jazzy undertones. ‘Save The World’ sets itself within adult contemporary, before dipping its toes in jazz and country and a thoroughly bizarre but endearing tribute to a girlfriend. Pouring over the album’s lyrics (of which there are many, more than it ever feels like there are but a huge amount just the same), it becomes apparent that reading in between the lines creates a picture, whether intended or not, that indicates the same inspirations for different songs. Past relationships maybe, long-distance ones with complicated circumstances and senses of longing. In truth, ‘The Optimist’ is a conflicted one; he feels the negative alongside the positive and oftentimes it is wading through these that allows us to really ask ourselves what this word means. Is it a shallow happiness? Or is it an observing of the bad times that makes the positive aspects of the stories stand out to be stronger in themselves?
I don’t know how you would classify this album, in all honesty. Surely one of intelligence and insight, of all the label-refusing records I have heard this one has to be one of the most defiant. There are so many influences here sometimes you have to remind yourself that many artists just stick to the same sound instead of having free reign of our shared cultural history and soundscape. If you were to paint Grover as Americana, that might be the closest you could get, because that catch-all term of America’s roots is the only way to describe such an interesting and varied release. If you have a taste for the wild, wonderful and the thought-provoking, find ‘The Optimist’ in yourself.
Jump to Song
- Sick of You
- The Lampolier
- Enough
- Pick Up Your Horn
- When You Come Near
- Dancing Slow
- Philip Marshall Cates
- Save the World
- Handle the Lonely
- Grindstone
- Little Spoon
Lyrics
Sick of You
I don’t know if it’s fireflies, or if my eyes are lying to me
But the lights that fill up my sky aren’t shining as bright
I landed in Minnesota, it’s colder, but I’m warm and I’m free
Until I’m alone, only memories to help me get through the night
And I got what I want, now I just want more
When you leave Indiana, I’m gonna cover some ground
Do all that I couldn’t get done without you around
I’m gonna cook you a dinner and burn it
I’ll say you’re perfect when you don’t deserve it
I’m gonna love you til I’m sick of you
And hopefully you’re gonna be sick of me too
We’ve dealt with this distance,
Lived through dissonance, the wild ups and downs
But I hear your voice through the wire and my heart floats away
Soon you’re headed home, and we’ve gone on too long waiting around
Let’s have some of that fun we’ve been hearing about
Forget about the future and live for today
When you leave Indiana, I’m gonna cover some ground
Do all that I couldn’t get done without you around
I’ll change your flat tires, keep my facial hair groomed
I’ll hold you in bed til the late afternoon
I’m gonna love you til I’m sick of you
And hopefully you’re gonna be sick of me
We’ve got the rest of our lives to live the rest of our lives
And try as we might, in time, some of the magic might die
But when we get together, I’m gonna cover some ground
Right now we’re young and we’re dumb and we’ll run this town
I’m gonna cherish each kiss like the first
I’ll hold you in ways that they’d frown on in church
Then if I’m lucky to live til I’m 80
I’ll still be a fool for my little old lady
I’ll tell everyone that I’m sick of you
And hopefully you’re gonna be sick of me too
The Lampolier
There was a poor old Lampolier
Who’d corner any man drawn near
Solicit, grinning ear to ear, his time
“Dear Citizen, entrepreneur,
“Bourgeoisie or raconteur,
“Permit me the chance to fill your mind
“With my travelled, torrid tale
“No broken hearts or angels ailing
“In some foreign castle in decline.
“If you’ll sit a minute please
“I’ll tell you how your own two knees
“Can carry you to hold the brightest light
“Ever to shine.”
Now most men over five and twenty’d
Long since learned to make their money
Pouring iron or pressing fact’ry stamp.
But me, I’d gone by many names,
I’d brought my parents ought but shame
Dishonorably they’d cast me out a tramp.
“Sit, I’ll tell you crystal clear,”
To me said the Lampolier,
Cold, glazed piercing eyes once red and damp
“Days a’walk from this cold city
“Hides a cave, old, dark, & gritty
“And inside’s the light that outshines anything
“I’ve ever burned inside my lamp.”
The Lampolier
Tell my mother it was the Lampolier
“Three days out Route 49
“You’ll find a town in deep decline
“Left abandoned by all but the fools.
“Then go up walking in the hills,
“Wander where the light it wills,
“But don’t you trouble rations, maps or tools.”
I had to stop the Lampolier,
“Mister you’ve not made it clear,
“Exactly the value of the light.”
“Young man,” said the old lampmaker,
“Love your God and don’t forsake Her,
“But this light’s the very holy source that gives
your soul its life.”
The Lampolier
Tell my mother it was the Lampolier
If you find my body here
Carry it into the sun
Well I obeyed the man’s directions
Brought no map but found the sections
Perfectly the Lampolier’d described
I crawled headfirst in that hole
Lost my grip and cracked my skull
And in the waning moment before I died
I recognized a well-dressed stranger
Eyes ablaze, I’d played his game to
Watch him stoke his cold and glorious fire
He held a shiny lamp towards me
And rather than my soul set free
Now I make his flame burn all the brighter
The Lampolier
Tell my mother it was the Lampolier
If you find my body here
Carry it into the sun
Children do not fear the dark
You’ve no idea who lit the spark
That you believes keeps demons far at bay
Late at night when lamps are burning
Next to you he could be lurking
The Lampolier could always use more prey.
Enough
Sleep is a luxury, til you’re next to me,
then I’d rather be your pillow.
Life used to be a bore, only hoping for
a sign that there is more than merely filling in the
days until we give it up, but I became unstuck
from that routine the day I met you. I’m
awake and living in the now, cause I’ve spent too much energy
worrying about the future.
Only heaven knows if I’ll be with you til the day I die,
but I’m gonna try.
There will be obstacles in the road,
I’ll go around them.
I’d like your permission to vow to never leave your side,
would you be satisfied?
It could feel right to marry you tonight,
but I know that you’d like to invite all our friends
and throw a big party and that’s
fine! Get your dress designed.
We can take our time,
cause it’s only a brand new life we’re starting.
Hope, innocent and plain, soon to be reclaimed,
I’ll hold you in my arms, I won’t forget this feeling that we
share. If it gets rough out there,
I’ll remember where my soul went flying
back when glances needed stealing.
Only heaven knows if I’ll be with you til the day I die,
but I’m gonna try.
There will be obstacles in the road,
I’ll go around them.
I’d like your permission to vow to always have your back,
could you go for that?
Every day I’ll look for a new reason to fall for you again.
Perfect is far out of my reach but I’ll always be your best friend.
We’ll start sharing our new life tomorrow, but tonight can I just have this dance?
Thank you for the chance…
Only heaven knows if I’ll be with you til the day I die,
but I’m gonna try.
There will be obstacles in the road,
we’ll go around them!
I’d like your permission to forever call you the one I love
…that would be enough
Pick Up Your Horn
He said, “Pick up your horn and you should blow it away, blow it away my friend!”
My daddy worked the factory seems the whole day long
He’d come home at suppertime, drink whiskey til it’s gone
And he never laid a finger on my mama or my kin
But Friday night on the banjo, his hands moved like the wind
Folks came from every direction just to hear
That banjo in the old mans arms
Between chasing girls and fighting with my friends
The old man asked me to join him and play him some guitar
Well my daddy’s mind’s still going, but his hands have lost their speed
He still loves that rocker and he sure as hell loves to sing
Even though this town it seems to change every day
The family still gets together, and we still love to play
When You Come Near
I see the rain falling down through the haze
I see the colors but I’m missing all the shapes
I see the light but it won’t show me the way
And I can’t see you
I see the future when I close my eyes
I see your picture, but I think it’s a disguise
My fingers run through your hair but no matter how I try
I can’t see you
It’s like I’m telling myself something I don’t wanna hear
They dismiss it as a dream, but it seems so clear
I could testify, but it’s best if my eyes drift when you come near
Cause they’re telling me something I don’t wanna hear
Even when I’m sleeping there’s a reason that I do the things I do
And every changing of the season brings believing that dreams come true
Give me just a little time, I’ll remind myself what you’ve been going through
When I can’t see you
Well I spend so much time thinking about what’s out of my hands
I hear, I plan, I hope, then you command
I wake up grasping at what my heart demands
But it don’t matter what I do
, no I can’t see you
Now I see the future when I close my eyes
I’ve been staring at your picture, and I know it’s a disguise
Don’t you know I did my best to love you but no matter how i try
I can’t see you
It’s like I’m telling myself something I don’t wanna hear
Y’all dismiss it as a dream, but it seems so clear
You know I could testify, but it’s best if my eyes drift when you come near
Cause they’re telling me something I don’t wanna hear
Dancing Slow
I remember when I took you camping in the snow
It melted and a river grew between us
Even then I had decided that our time was low
There would soon be miles between us
So we packed up and for the first time I took you home
My mother smiled to see us
I would like to meet the one who said, “If you love them, let them go.”
I would like to think I’ve lived enough to hope
And now, we’ll never know
When we met in Vegas weeks after I let you go
We watched the world beneath us
I withered as you left for the plane that took you home
But I steeled my heart and lied, “It’s for the best.”
I would like to meet the one who said, “If you love them, let them go.”
I would like to think I’ve lived enough to hope
And now, we’ll never know
You remember when you took me camping at the coast?
I’d not yet felt the canyon grown between us
I’d forfeited every chance to tell you how I loved you so
Exhausted in the months that I’d let pass
I relive that night, naked, dancing slow
Regretting that if only we had both known
I would like to meet the one who said, “If you love them, let them go.”
I… would like to think I’ve lived enough to hope
And now, we’ll never know
Philip Marshall Cates
Philip Marshall Cates was born in Carolina,
Went to school in England
Philip and Samantha married on his farm
Before the harvest season
He was schemin’
His worshipped father died a Great War hero
At night he’d lie in bed and clutch his silver stars and eagles
(He was schemin’)
Back abroad in London Philip Marshall Cates
Had met an old explorer
Who’d climbed the Ural Mountains, crossed Sahara,
Dove the oceans, spoke of more
Oh, he spoke of more!
So one night Philip abandoned poor Samantha,
Future Smokey Mountain old maid
And as he dark departed, son Lysander
Joined his father as a stowaway
(He spoke of more!)
But tonight, don’t cry for Samantha, mother and bride
As she holds a black and white photograph that fades away
She still works the farm, and she remembers her baby in her arms
The babe that left her barren and the man that drove her early grey
And they all take respite in the thought of coming home one day
Philip and Lysander carried south to work for merchants out of Quito
Son translated, father wore a gun and fended off banditos
He grew weak though
Then in eighteen years they worked every job from here to Argentina
Every woman a distortion of that last time they had seen her
(He grew weak though)
But tonight, don’t cry for Samantha, mother and bride
As she holds a black and white photograph that fades away
She still works the farm, and she remembers her baby in her arms
The babe that left her barren and the man that drove her early grey
And they all take respite in the thought of coming home one day
Old Lysander Cates spent over thirty months
In travel north to Raleigh
Gasping when he saw Samantha bed-ridden, rheumatized and gnarly
He said “I’m sorry,
“It’s been seven years since father was gunned down
“By gauchos out to rob our cocaine
“And when I got out of jail for killing every last one
“I started home again
“Oh, Mother I’m sorry.”
Old Samantha Cates was buried in
The shadow of the church bell tower
And when he took his life Lysander’s body
Landed there amongst her flowers….
But tonight, don’t cry for Samantha, mother and bride
As she holds a black and white photograph that’s faded away
She still works the farm, and her baby has outgrown her arms
The fields are never barren and
The men come in for supper after a long hard day
And they all take respite in the thought of coming home….
Save the World
She likes my taste in music and I love her taste for life
She can’t stand to read, but I love what she writes
And when I need an answer, she’ll only ask me why
But I know that it’s somewhere behind those eyes
Because she’s just as uncool as me
But she loves me like you won’t believe
And she swears a singalong is gonna save the world
And she goes La Da Da Da Da Da Da Da
She’ll never tell me what she’s thinking but she’ll tell everybody how she feels
Says she oughta go to prison for them hearts that she steals
And when I’m feeling safe she goes and catches me off guard
We both take our jokes just a little too far
Because she’s just as uncool as me
But she loves me like you won’t believe
And she swears a singalong is gonna save the world
And she goes La Da Da Da Da Da Da Da
Dancing in the silence of the moonlight
Or making up new words to all our songs
It don’t matter which one is running through my head
Because I know she’ll be singing, She’ll be singing along
Because she’s just as uncool as me
But she loves me like you won’t believe
And she swears a singalong is gonna save the world
She goes La Da Da Da Da Da Da Da
Handle the Lonely
There’s a picture that our friends put in a frame
Of you acting the fool on a drunk
I hid it deep in my closet
But that ain’t stopped it from keeping me up
Here’s the belt that you gave me
What a diabolical plan
Because I lost a lot of weight since you wound up in another’s arms
Now your memory is holding up my pants
I can handle the lonely
It feels like that’s what I was born to do
I can handle
My stomach, my heart and my panic attacks, but
Lord knows I can’t handle you, I can’t handle you
One of the best things about us
Was our mutual love of music and good tunes
But now every song has a memory
And I’ve nothing left but country and the blues
I asked your opinion
What’s the classiest car I can afford?
Now I’m riding in style
And my passenger seat is empty and ignored
I can handle the lonely
It feels like that’s what I was born to do
I can handle
My stomach, my heart and my panic attacks, but
Lord knows I can’t handle you, I can’t handle you
Now there’s no better version of me
Than the one that’s standing by your side
But he went south in a hurry, yes he did
On the day you hung me out to dry
I can handle the lonely
Cause it feels like that’s what I was born to do
I can handle forgiveness
There’s something to hold on to
I can handle the blame game
Cause at least that’s something I’m prepared to lose
I can handle
My stomach, my heart and my panic attacks
Lord knows I can’t handle you, I can’t handle you
Grindstone
Watching the sun come up over Lake Michigan
Letting the morning train drag me away
Hard to believe that we’re doing this again
Hard to believe I didn’t come here to stay
Hard to believe you’re sending me back west, but easy to see
Why you don’t need me wearing you down
Grindstone
Love’s down to powder and sawdust and grit
I’d like to call but there’s nothing left to say
And I never meant to take advantage of you like I did
The wind picked up and carried all away
Grindstone
(Love falls out every day)
(I just missed it)
Little Spoon
Hey pretty lady won’t you come my way
We got nothing going on today
I got two arms and you belong in the middle
I’ll be the big spoon if you’ll be the little
We could stay out until we see the stars
Or we could drink Blue Moon in a dive bar
If you wanna go shopping you could drag me around
I could check out the new record store downtown
You got the money, I got the time
You put me in the best frame of mind
Lately I’ve been telling anybody who’ll hear
That you’re the only song playing in my ears
Hey pretty lady won’t you come my way
We got nothing going on today
I got two arms and you belong in the middle
I’ll be the big spoon if you’ll be the little
I sold a record but I ain’t sold two
So I only got a little bit to spend on you
I’d sure like to buy you an ice cream cone
Pretend we don’t have to act like all grown
Up men and women worried bout the banks
The youth and the protests and the corporate ranks
The burden and afflictions and the stress are all gone
When I’m walking down the street with you on my arm
So hey pretty lady won’t you come my way
We got nothing going on today
You keep doing what it is you do
And I’m always gonna be a fool for you
You be the crazy and I’ll be the sane
I’ll keep up with you and I won’t complain
Oakland, Chicago, to NYC
I just wanna hold you next me
I’ll be the big spoon, you be the little
I got two arms…and you belong in the middle
The Optimist — Album Notes
Performed By:
Grover Anderson (vocals/rhythm guitar), Aaron Bishop (bass), Bob Matthews (drums), Rick Moore (keyboards/sax), & Kiel Williams (lead guitar)
“Pick Up Your Horn” features Jimbo Scott (vocals/guitar) & Pete Ahonen (banjo)
“Grindstone” features Rick Moore, Caroline Nelson, Owen Ridings, Jimbo Scott, & Kiel Williams (vocals)
Music & Lyrics by Grover Anderson
Except “Pick Up Your Horn”, written by Jimbo Scott & Grover Anderson
Recorded at:
I See Red Studios (engineered by Bob Matthews)
The Electric Company (engineered by Grover Anderson)
Lost Monkey Studio (engineered by Mike Stevens)
Great Modulator Productions (engineered by Rick Moore & Kiel Williams)
Mixed by Michael Clebanoff
Mastered by Paul Stubblebine
Artwork & design by Alexis Wagner
Immeasurable thanks to all who directly contributed, as well as
Mom, Dad, Hattie, Lexi, Chandler, Papa, Bob & Barbi, Eddie Castro, Kevin Bernido, Chris Stevens, Josh Certo, Rayshaun Grimes, Drew Bruchs, Raymond Jones, Jaclyn Bishop, Jessica Herron, Shelby French, Joel Campbell & KJEE, the O’Malleys crew, the fruit stand on State Street, & the inexhaustibly supportive community of Murphys