Although they go by the group name of Magnolia Summer, this is really a loose collective of St. Louis-based musicians led by the duo of producer/multi-instrumentalist Mark Ray and singer/songwriter Chris Grabau. Recorded over a two-year period and finally released in late 2003, the album is as languid and humid as the collective’s name. With a strummy Americana sound somewhere between Son Volt and the Pernice Brothers, these songs slowly grow on you. Grabau’s vulnerable, barely whispered vocals perfectly convey the music’s delicate and intimate strokes. Like the sepia-toned graphics, the muted approach, especially during the final half, imbues the project with a soft, low-key, and thoughtful air that invites repeated spins. Grabau possesses an innocent voice, somewhat like Gram Parsons, which imparts even the harder-edged songs with a pensive, unpretentious edge. Although he is the dominant focus, contributions from Jeremy Brown on violin and especially guitarist/bassist John Horton are indispensable ingredients to this stew. Songs like “Summer Moon” shimmer with subtle licks and melodies that slowly creep and seep into your brain. Not all is quiet — “Wish You Well” cranks out a garage-y blend of tough guitars and crashing drums — but even on its loudest moments, the album exudes a reflective, often wistful mood. Grabau also adds synth loops to his predominantly rootsy approach, resulting in the closing “Maybe Someday,” one of this beautiful and moving disc’s most tender moments. – Hal Horowitz
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