Some of you have read the very nice, beautifully written write-up I got in this week’s Willamette Week. If not (or if you’d like to read the unedited version), see below. I was flattered by Annie Bethancourt’s too-kind words, to say the absolute least – ok, the truth is, when I first read it, I was beaming, school-girlish even. It’s always nice to receive such adulation and by now, you’d think I’d be used to it – not because I’m so deserving of praise but because I have such an amazing and supportive group of friends and fans – but there’s something very special about seeing those words in print, for all of Portland to see (if they wanted to).
I only wish I were a writer for the Willamette Week. Not really. But if I were, I’d be able to return Annie the favor. You see, Annie Bethancourt happens to be a singer/songwriter herself. In fact, she’s a phenomenal one – on all counts: vocals, guitar, the craft of songwriting, etc. I was honored to be able to open for her this week at her homecoming/birthday show at the Mississippi Pizza Pub.
If I were so able, I would write an epic, florid, grandiloquent review of Annie’s music. Not because I feel somehow obligated to (though I do) but because I want the whole world to experience what I did when her Myspace page finished loading on my laptop for the first time and her rich, beautiful voice and deft musicianship poured from my computer’s tinny speakers and instantly captivated me. I’m so glad that she’s not a huge hit yet, if only because I get the privilege of introducing her to you.
Here are a couple of her songs. Enjoy!
This one is my personal favorite (thus far):
Birds of the Air by Annie Bethancourt
…and here’s my second favorite (recorded at Mississippi Pizza Pub): Glory
This is the full text of what Annie wrote about my music:
Dustin Pattison (Schizoprenifolk)
Dustin Pattison’s pure voice and simple acoustic style are stripped-down folk at it’s finest. Yet while his melodic timbre resonates serenely, the themes of Pattison’s well-crafted songs tread sneakily on fragmented ground–swinging from Irish lullabies, to a life history of Jesus, to a tale about burying a woman in his backyard and confessing to a priest. The effect should be jarring, but although the stories are schizophrenic the sentiment is somber, peaceful even. As Pattison sings “You go get the bottles, and I’ll go get the gun…One by one by one, we will blow them away” in a Bonnie-and-Clyde style tale of longing for freedom(“One by One”), his simple, sad voice makes you somehow sympathize with those desperate words, as if, in a different time, they could have been your own.
