Roger Street Friedman is still a believer in the idea that music can change hearts and minds. Over the past decade, and during the course of four critically acclaimed albums, the modern Americana singer-songwriter has become a prominent voice in addressing issues both societal and personal in ways that recall the leading music lights of the ‘60s and ‘70s. On his newest album, Long Shadows, Friedman trains his observant eye on recent and past events, some close to home and others half a world away, and in the tradition of other great storytellers, he focuses on raw emotions – love, anger, dismay, fear, isolation and ultimately, hope – in ways that make his points relatable to any listener.

 

“In many ways, I feel like a folk singer,” he says. “When I was a kid, my older brothers protested the Vietnam War and protest music was always playing in the house. My father was a decorated World War II vet, but he listened to Pete Seeger, Woody Guthrie, and Peter, Paul and Mary. At the same time, a lot of my songs are about my own life experiences and how I feel about my relationships with my significant others. Whatever I’m writing about, I try not to beat people over the head. My goal is to tell stories that evoke feelings, but I also feel that if I see something I have a responsibility to say something.”

 

He does so with an engaging and transcendent blend of rock ‘n’ roll, blues, country and folk that pays homage to his major inspirations – Paul Simon, Cat Stevens, Jackson Browne, Joni Mitchell, Randy Newman and Neil Young. “They’re all incredible songwriters,” Friedman says. “Musically and lyrically, that’s the era I draw from.”

 

Last fall, Friedman had come off the road after a successful tour in support of his fourth album, Love Hope Trust (the 12-song set elicited raves from major publications like American Songwriter, Goldmine, Relix and the Aquarian, among others). He hadn’t planned on jumping into a new record, but in an effort to combat post-partum depression, he decided to invite some friends – drummer/engineer Justin Guip, bassists Andy Hess and George Rush, and drummer Jim Toscano – to his home studio in Sea Cliff, New York to work on a batch of songs. “I didn’t have any expectations,” Friedman says. “It was no stress. I said, ‘Let’s just have some fun and a good hang, and we’ll see where it goes.’”

 

Right in the middle of recording, the tragic events of October 7th left Friedman stunned. Racked with anger and despair, he wrote the stirring and haunting ballad, “I Think We Know.” It’s a mesmerizing musical experience that sweeps the listener away with swooning B3 textures (supplied by Jeff Kazee), Friedman’s richly melodic guitar figures and a luminous choir of background vocals. Over the graceful arrangement, he sings, “And honestly I think we know/ not many ways that this could go/ I used to believe that we could rise above/ I dreamed of peace and love/ now I just pray for me, and I pray for you/ may we all come through.”

 

“I wrote the song the night before we recorded it,” Friedman says. “It’s my response to October 7th and the war in Gaza, the innocent people getting killed on both sides. I was thinking that if something doesn’t change in this world, it’s all going in a very bad direction.” He pointedly adds, “But being an eternal optimist, as I am in most of my songs, I found a grain of hope in the end.”

 

On his previous two albums, Rise and Love Hope Trust, Friedman handed production duties over to Grammy-winning producer, guitarist and songwriter Larry Campbell (known for his work with Bob Dylan, Levon Helm, Judy Collins and Willie Nelson, among others). Long Shadows marks the artist’s first time in the producer’s chair. “I learned so much from Larry lyrically, harmonically and melodically,” Friedman says. “The way he approaches arrangements is incredible. When it came time to flesh out the production on these tracks, I felt like I could give it a go myself – with co-production help from Justin Guip – because of all I learned from Larry.”

 

After nailing basic tracks, Friedman worked on overdubs with keyboardist Jeff Kazee and a trio of background singers: Cassondra James Kellam, Rasul A-Salaam, and the artist’s own daughter, Allie. Larry Campbell came in to play pedal steel, fiddle and electric guitar on a couple of cuts; all the other electric and acoustic guitar tracks were played by Friedman himself. “Larry was amazing, as usual, and it was also a lot of fun for me to stretch out by myself,” he says. “I’m pretty happy with the final result.”

 

The deep-pocket groove and lush ensemble musicianship on “Rolling in Again,” highlighted by Friedman’s lyrical dobro playing, recalls the golden age of 1970s Laurel Canyon – it’s an arresting convergence of folk, rock and pop. Here Friedman details what he calls “the emotional comings and goings of a relationship.” Elaborating further, he says, “The song describes how when it gets hard, it’s easy to feel wistful, like you’re checking out. The main character in the story is constantly moving between those moods, looking out over the distance at roads not taken. But having the wisdom to know that the grass really isn’t any greener, she always rolls back in in the end.”

 

“The Banks of the Brazos” rises up like a gritty, swampy and twisted fever dream. It’s a continuation of the searing “Ghosts of Sugarland” (from Love Hope Trust) in which Friedman examined the horrors of convict leasing after the Civil War, but in the new song he delves deeper into the story. “These guys were treated worse than slaves because they were released by the state to private companies,” he explains. “If you were a slave owner, you wanted to protect your asset to some extent. But if a company leased people from the state and they died, you just said, ‘I need 10 more guys.’”

 

In “Give It All Away for Free,” Friedman tackles isolation, loneliness and self-loathing in a world where “satellites circle tonight, searching for proof of life.” The song is a marvel of contrasts: It pulls with right in with its warm and friendly vibe and a rootsy, classic-sounding bed of instrumentation. On the verses, Friedman’s vocals are tinged with melancholy and yearning, but on the rousing, instantly memorable choruses he opens up with a soulfulness that makes you believe he hasn’t fully given up on the promise of better times.

 

As the album progresses, more tales unfold. “The Land of the Leaf Blower and the Mighty SUV” is a playful folk-rock gem with a serious side. Written “in response to the response to George Floyd’s death,” Friedman casts a discerning eye at fellow suburbanites gripped by the “white fear that rose out of the protests.” While playing a rollicking acoustic guitar figure, he sings, “Saturday is shining, the leaf blowers are whining/ the Range Rovers are idling in the benevolent breeze/ all us white people are just about as safe as can be in the land of the leaf blower and the mighty SUV.”

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Friedman lets loose his inner Link Wray on the spellbinding rocker “Just How It Feels,” tossing out growling guitar riffs and a widescreen solo that gets the job done. “Without a Fight” is another cool blast of driving, twangy guitar-heavy glory. Bathed in a luxurious latticework of acoustic and electric guitars, pedal steel and joyous fiddles, courtesy of Campbell, the album comes to a resounding close with the elegant country-tinged “Lo and Behold.” Interestingly, Friedman ran his lyrics through Dropbox AI for an analysis and was surprised at its assessment: The poet acknowledges the beauty and hope that can be found in the world symbolized by the sweet morning light and the dawn approaching like a prayer. He notes, “Wow, that hit the nail on the head. There is a sense of hope after all.”

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Long Shadows could be called a high-water mark, but for Friedman, who put music aside for 25 years before resuming his creativity with a vengeance with his 2014 debut, The Waiting Sky, the self-produced album signals more breakthroughs are on the way. “When I came back to music, I didn’t know what to expect,” he says. “But the album got good reviews and got played on the radio, and then I started working with Larry, who was very encouraging. I like to think that wisdom comes with age. Over time I’ve become a more proficient songwriter, and I’ve really built this into something. I’m excited to continue to work, trust the process, and take this as far as I can.”