Admittedly, I’m kinda late to a thoughtful and rollicking, richly poetic party that started back in 2007, when Jeremy Dion, a singer/songwriter raised on and inspired by the same icons that defined my childhood (John Denver, James Taylor, Paul Simon), dropped his independent debut album Finally. Missed his other gems too in 2012 (Golden Some Day) and nine years later (Sharpe & Dion, with Peter Sharpe of The Railsplitters). But in Jeremy-land, it’s cool to be a little behind the curve. After all, the Boulder, CO based artist (and proud Deadhead) cleverly calls his music: “Folk therapy for late bloomers.”
Here we are in 2024, and I’m embracing the warm infectious retro-cool vibe of his latest 11-track masterwork Bend in the Middle not only like it’s one of the best albums I’ve heard all year, but something that truly all at once energizes and soothes my soul and calms my anxiety.
But enough about me. This guy’s phenomenal – all at once clever, crafty, thoughtful and relatable. And it stands to reason why his songs have this kind of emotional/spiritual impact. It’s an extension of his many years as a licensed therapist who followed his BA in Psychology from UC Berkeley with a Masters in Transpersonal Counseling Psychology and Music Therapy from Naropa University (founded by Tibetan Buddhist teacher Chogyam Trungpa). While so many middle-aged artists who work their indie magic scrub their successful “day jobs” from their music bio, Dion seems proud of his service to others and makes it an essential part of his creative story– and rightly so. Impressively, he and guitarist/engineer Kyle Donovan bring their magic to life with some of Colorado’s finest musicians.
The singer artfully fuses his two worlds on the rousing, folk-blues-inflected title track and first lead single “Bend in the Middle,” whose overall theme of emotional flexibility and key lines cut deep into the baggage so many of us bring way too far into adulthood: “Our problem’s our disconnection/Our well-intended split/But we can tune back into the goodness again/By loving all the parts that don’t fit.” In case we had any questions about his intention, he explains, “The theme song to my life as a therapist. This song embodies so much of what I talk to clients about on a regular basis - learning how to love the parts of us that don’t seem to fit the mold, that we tried to hide or cut-off in our upbringing. Healing and integration are one and the same, and getting our eyes off of what others are doing and what they think about what we are doing is vital.”
Wow, we can stream that encouraging advice FREE and have a blast singing along as well. Not that he’s always in doctor-artist mode. Dion’s favorite tune on the album – and the one he calls “most enjoyable to play” – is “Loving Our Friends,” a thoughtful and inspiring yet musically whimsical tune told from the perspective of past, present and future that taps a bit into late 60’s Neil Diamond mode to impart these nuggets of fresh fresh wisdom: “Didn’t we love some and didn’t we leave some/With everybody doing their best. . .How do we love ourselves like we’re loving our friends?” and “It matters what you grow/For now will soon be long ago.” (And MAJOR KUDOS to Dion for putting the lyrics to every song he’s ever recorded on his website so their poetic genius can be properly quoted!)
So yes, we could probably quote Dion’s wit and wisdom all day long in couplets like “Living has a way of leading me to wonder ‘bout feeling/And feeling has a way of getting me to follow my heart” (from “Constant”). Yet sometimes the poet just wants to be lighthearted and romantic, as on the buoyant, locomotive groover “All I See Is You,” whose scenic imagery shares the beauty of nature in service of the reality that all he wants to do is burn in love again. He expresses a similar sentiment via glorious images of a romantic night in Paris on the graceful, harmony laden acoustic tune “You & I,” which cheerily name checks the Seine, Eiffel Tower, St. Chappelle and the Mona Lisa.
Another favorite, the charming, fiddle-dappled “Sweet June” is a magnificent ode to his 17-year-old daughter and the pride he has in being her dad. It doesn’t cover as many years, but this female equivalent to Harry Chapin’s “Cat’s in the Cradle” is actually a deeper, more thoughtful song. And while Dion shows himself throughout to be a fairly optimistic (if practical) guy, always willing to find ways to solve very human challenges and issues, he also includes a glimpse into his darker side on the Halloween-ish, steel guitar-tinged sonic vibe of “The Haunting,” a sparse yet dramatic story about the regret of losing one’s love on the wedding day and being left to dance with a ghost.
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