Interesting things can happen when an artist is left to his own devices. Particularly in the case of Christian music, where there is so much pressure to load albums up with positive and obvious "Christian" messages, and to keep the demeanor upbeat and the sound immaculate, it can be difficult for an artist to really express the gamut of his or her emotions or life experience through song. Sometimes Christian artists depart and seek mainstream deals because of this, where there is still a lot of pressure to look cool even if people care less what the particular message is. Sometimes they go indie. But in a few cases, they're just lucky enough to get dropped by one label at an opportune time, and make a lateral move to a label with a different mindset, remaining the artists their fans knew and loved, but finding freedom to stretch themselves a little.

This is sort of what happened to Fernando Ortega, a mellow man who makes mellow, adult contemporary music with a touch of class. He hasn't made any radical changes after getting dropped by Word Records and picked up by Curb. He's not about to rock the house or start rapping or wow all the critics with his dark side or anything. He's not getting a hip youth-savvy makeover. But in a way, his self-titled album, which came out in 2004 (and I'm just now getting around to it!) shows us a new man. The smooth voice and comforting hymns and songs of encouragement are still there. We're still gonna recognize the man whose music we enjoyed on albums like Home and Storm (the latter being where I got on board after being relatively bored with him previously - I might need to go back and re-evaluate some of his earlier work). But we're gonna hear a little more life and a little less doctrine this time around. Storm hinted at those winds of change kicking up, with the more melancholy places it explored. But here, Ortega is content to describe beauty for beauty's sake without having to justify it by cramming the name of God into every song. And he doesn't mind if that description of fleeting beauty butts up against a confession of spiritual heaviness, or a hymn. Ortega's mellow folk style seems to inherit a bit more color due to this new freedom - retaining its mellow folk and piano base, but picking up stronger elements of his native Southwest here and there, and in general allowing each song to stand out more. He could sell a lot of records (and he has) based on his mellow voice alone, but the choice to stretch himself is a good one.

Fernando Ortega is an album that sort of happens in groups of three. At its front are three slice-of-life songs, only one of which appears to be a direct allegory to anything deeper, that just place us in the middle of peaceful, quiet settings and let us ponder the beauty. This segues into a group of songs that deal with the late-night achings of the soul, the darker periods that Christians go through that cause them to ask God the hard questions. In the back half of the album, songs that pay tribute to friends and family are intermingled with one of Ortega's hallmarks - reverently performed hymns. While the hymns seem to be almost too closely clumped together, it's a style that he does well, particularly when he adds a little bit of minor-key flavor to an altered melody. It's like getting one of those cheesecakes at the store that are divided into four quadrants, with a different flavor in each. They're all unique variants of the same smooth, rich dessert.

California Town
Couples on the boardwalk, and down on the sandbar
Holding hands, staring out
To the moon on the ocean
Silver and soft, water in motion...
The album opener sets the mellow pace nicely, with a rich 12-string guitar and a gentle, top-tapping rhythm as Fernando sings of a quiet, romantic night spent in a seaside town. Gentle female background vocals, and little lyrical details that paint a picture without giving away the exact town (he mentions a "Pacific Highway", so it's probably somewhere along U.S. Highway 1, but there are a million of those little beach towns) are highlights of what may be the album's strongest song. I probably like it so much because the song is strongly reminiscent of little lover's getaways that my wife and I have taken to places like San Diego, Santa Barbara, and San Luis Obispo, but that doesn't mean it isn't a great song in its own right.

Dragonfly
Come a little closer, dragonfly
I love the quiet air you occupy
I'm sitting down right here, right now, alone
To hear the river lapping at the stone...
There could be an allegory to this mysterious, spaghetti Western-influenced song about wanting to be like a big blue insect, but even if there isn't, the song doesn't need a deeper meaning to justify its existence. The staccato acoustic guitar strumming and the snarling electric guitar lead (it's slightly menacing, but not loud and obnoxious, since that wouldn't fit Ortega's style at all) make this one a memorable left turn for Ortega. It's simply a song about admiring something God created to be beautiful and unusual - the song doesn't have to name God specifically to be a great testimony to His unique work. Fernando finds himself admiring the free lifestyle of this strange pond-dwelling bug - he wants to ignore the trappings of modern technology for a few minutes and just admire nature at work. There might be a few awkward lines like "Dragonfly, I really like your style", but overall, it's still a poetic and masterfully performed song.

When the Coyote Comes
Epi and Louie freeze, they don't blink or breathe
A sudden danger in the atmosphere
Walking down the road, sniffing as he goes
An old coyote, his eyes are yellow green...
Quick lesson: In the West, we pronounce "coyote" with two syllables: "KAI-yoht." Said mangy canine is a bit of a troublesome presence in this song, whose lead guitar line makes it easy to envision the animal, howling at the moon on a clear New Mexican night. Unfortunately, the coyote's domain borders on that of humans, which means that Fernando's fast asleep inside the house while his two cats, who have been too stubborn to come in for the night, are left to fend for themselves. A night of playing in the yard turns into a fight for survival when they catch the coyote's scent on the wind. The whole thing is a loose allegory for sin and salvation, I guess - it comes clear during the bridge. I just like it for the Southwestern, bluesy slice-of-life tale that it is - it wouldn't be too far off to imagine Iron & Wine crafting such a song.

Sleepless Night
Hear my anxious prayer, the beating of my heart
The pulse and the measure of my unbelief
Speak your words to me, before I come apart
Help me believe in what I cannot see...
This gentle, piano-led song brings Fernando back to a style that will be familiar to those who enjoyed Storm. It's still easy to hang on to that image of a hot desert night as Fernando is found doing a little bit of proverbial tossing and turning, honestly wrestling with his doubts before God. Here is where Jesus is directly referred to for the first time on the album, and it feels honest instead of contrived like a lot of Christian music is - he's just capturing an uncertain moment with subtle but lovely instrumentation, instead of overwhelming us with easy answers. Original songs like this place Fernando's love for hymns in context, since the language is honest and makes eloquent use of the writer's vocabulary, and it resonates in a genuine way.

Shame
In dark hours of confrontation
When words may fall too soon to unsay
Don't mistake them for my true meaning
They are measures of my shame...
Digging deeper into the doubt that is causing Fernando's insomnia, this song takes a long, hard look at how God sees humans versus how we see ourselves. The gentle clip-clop of the percussion almost makes the song feel like a mellower "Dragonfly", but it quickly establishes its own identity with its understated but slightly nervous melody. Here, Fernando is asking God to look past his outbursts and frustrated moments, the preconceived notions he has that sometimes cause him to be mad at God. This gives the song a psalm-like quality, as Fernando asks, "When my meekness overcomes me, remember me, not my shame". It's a tough balance - Fernando wants to approach God with humility in his prayers, but not to be buried in endless shame and guilt like some Christians are unfortunately taught to do to themselves.

Noonday Devil
I know there's hope in anger, and tenderness in shame
Sometimes I find You on the other side of pain...
The final song in the "late-night achings of the soul" section of the album actually describes the way that Fernando feels in the broad daylight of the following day. It's upbeat, with an unapologetically country-influenced electric guitar leading the way. Fernando is realizing the toll that sadness and shame can take on a person, and noting how eventually, a Christian can feel tempted to just shut off all feeling and become numb to God. He is remembering that when he was able to feel something, he knew that God was working in Him, and not feeling anything at all now is rather unsettling. It's the devil that disguises this numbness as relief, so to counteract it, Fernando cries out, "Oh Lord, make me angry, oh Lord, make me cry". Even though these are not desirable emotions for most people, he'd rather feel something and know that he's truthfully wrestling with God, rather than just going through the motions. There's a sweet fiddle solo in the middle of the song - right about now I'm really wishing Five O'Clock People were still around, because this totally reminds me of something they might have come up with (save for the electric guitar).

Mildred Madalyn Johnson
She loved to sing in the choir, loud and inspired
Her head tilted down, keeping time
Or tell stories with friends after supper, ignoring the hour
A calico cat fast asleep at her side...
Switching to lighter fare for a second, Fernando gives us a piano-based biography that fondly recalls the life of an old woman who had her quirks, but whom he considered himself lucky to have as a friend. His attention to sometimes amusing and sometimes merely statistical details brings to mind Sufjan Stevens - you get the feeling that she might have had a screw loose and perhaps she shouldn't have been driving her big red car down the street if "she couldn't see over the hood very far", but then everyone on the street probably loved that old lady to death, so she got away with it. If Sufjan had recorded this, there'd probably be a rag-tag choir joining in near the end and hand-claps on beats 2 and 3, but Fernando's understated style works well too, leaving room for a simple but classy piano solo in the middle. You can hear the upright bass in the background, which to me is thrilling.

All That Time
He remembers to breathe and then forgets
He says "Come on", we let him rest
Into the golden afternoon
Much too long, and over soon...
It might be the title or the fact that it's track 8, but this one really reminds me of "This Time Next Year" from Storm. It has a peaceful piano melody, almost as if someone is being eulogized, so it feels like the next chapter to a song which was about a man who likely had little time left to live. A female duet vocal is used to great effect here, and there's a slight sense of sorrow, as if the man may have regretted some of the time he wasted, not letting his loved ones know what they meant to him. At the same time, there's a peace about it, as if there was no uncertainty how he felt about them all when he was ready to pass on. It's a tear-jerker if you pay attention to it, but it never makes an attempt to forcefully jerk the old heartstrings. It just softly tells a story, and lets our own experiences of letting loved ones go do the talking.

Rock of Ages
Nothing in my hand I bring
Simply to the cross I cling
Naked, come to Thee for dress
Helpless, look to Thee for grace...
The first of three hymns on the record is a brief and quiet affair, with no percussion to be found, and little other than some muted chords in the background and a dobro to back Fernando's voice. The arrangement is almost a little too plain, and only a few verses are sung, but the dobro solo in the middle is quite tasty.

Immortal, Invisible
Unresting, unhasting, and silent as light
Nor wanting, nor wasting, Thou rulest in might
Thy justice, like mountains, high soaring above
Thy clouds, which are fountains of goodness and love...
One of the few instances of drum programming on this album occurs here, softly tapping out a mechanical meter of 3/4 that is skillfully matched with flowing instrumentation. Fernando presents this hymn with an altered tune, which I think gives it a lot more color (the most well-known version seems to have a bit too much fanfare for my tastes). There was an original song called "Sing to Jesus" on the last album that had a rich chord progression and melody - this arrangement feels similar. The whispers of piano and electric guitar, which lead to about as climactic of an instrumental as you're likely to get on a Fernando Ortega record near the end of the song, start to feel like a cool morning fog breaking apart to let the sun slowly break through, the shadows and beams of light playing off of the fields to display a familiar world in an entirely new, awe-inspiring fashion. I'm probably over-selling it, but what I'm trying to say is that this is a sublime arrangement.

Take Heart, My Friend
If we should falter when trouble surrounds us
When the wind and the waves are wild and high
We will look away to Him who ruled the waters
Who spoke His peace into the angry tide...
The album probably reaches its weakest moment here, with a mid-tempo acoustic song that is obviously one of encouragement to a down-hearted friend. Fernando's language is carefully constructed and strives to reach deeper than your average Hallmark card, but this might be the point where plain and mellow becomes a detriment. It's not a bad song, but it's not filled with the details that made the other two songs in this detached trilogy ("Mildred Madalyn Johnson" and "All That Time") stand out, so it kind of feels like he's just recycling his usual tactics in an attempt to pad the album. The appearance of strings near the end doesn't help, even if the floating wisps of electric guitar are a nice touch, and the accompanying players have a good sense of climax near the end.

More Love to Thee
Once earthly joy I craved, sought peace and rest
Now Thee alone I seek, give what is best...
A final hymn closes out the album, with Fernando's voice accompanied only by his piano. This is a special song for Fernando - either it was performed at his wedding, or her performed it at a friend's wedding, I forget which. Unfortunately, like "Jesus Paid It All", which closed Storm, he doesn't do much with the melody or arrangement to make it stand out. Since it's a song I don't recognize, this kind of makes it a pleasant but forgettable closer. There are likely some who would level that charge against most of Fernando's work, but it's really just the end of the album where I think that truly becomes a problem this time.

I suppose it's natural that a Fernando Ortega album is always going to have a sense of warm familiarity to it - he's that kind of artist who has the ability to immediately feel like a wise friend coming up alongside you, putting a hand on your shoulder, and telling you in a meaningful way that everything's gonna be alright. I don't necessarily want him to change that. He explored a bit here and learned a little more about how to stir the still waters that run deep, resolving to peace in the end. Because this generally works for him, I still think this album is an underrated gem. But he might want to keep in mind that peaceful, mellow, and simple should never have to mean plain and unimaginative. There's a subtle craftsmanship and imagination at work in the lyricism and musical performance of most of these songs, and it proves that being "adult contemporary" doesn't have to mean eschewing actual artistry. It's just a fine line to walk, and I hope he continues to walk it well.

Oh, and for those wondering about the odd review title that I chose - it's because of the album cover, which features Ortega sitting in a rather ritzy-looking restaurant or dining room, holding a cup of coffee and looking rather stern. Just seemed like an odd choice for such an album. Then again, looking at the inside of the insert, Ortega seems to have a bit of a dorky smile, so perhaps the cover photo was a safer bet. (Maybe he just shouldn't have his picture on his album covers from now on, eh?)

ALBUM WORTH:
California Town $2
Dragonfly $1.50
When the Coyote Comes $1.50
Sleepless Night $1
Shame $1.50
Noonday Devil $1.50
Mildred Madalyn Johnson $1
All That Time $1
Rock of Ages $.50
Immortal, Invisible $1.50
Take Heart, My Friend $.50
More Love to Thee $.50
TOTAL: $14

Website: http://www.fernandoortega.com

Recommended: Yes

Great Music to Play While: Reading or Studying