Ty Tabor
Safety

The trauma of a couple's separation, the end of a marriage, the failure of a joint life project almost always reveals itself to be a strenuous uphill journey. There are feelings of guilt towards the children, although reason and rationality lead to the conclusion that you are choosing the lesser evil. There is wounded pride because there are invariably curses and insults, lies and omissions, not to mention possible infidelity, the quintessential symbol of misplaced trust and lack of respect. There is the overwhelming and dizzying result of a feeling of emptiness, of solitude, of relativity towards everything that has been built and achieved until that moment. Lastly, there is the necessity to turn the page, to move forward, to try to take care of oneself, to truly turn that blessed page, when the previous one, however ruined and worn, continues to possess an aura of indispensability, the allure of something that escapes, and then it is sweet to fall back into it and idealize it, to wallow in self-pity and linger over what has been, continuing to seek out someone who may just want to be left alone, and trying in turn to turn the page.

For the man Ty Tabor, this dramatically common event, this period of anger, confusion, nostalgia, and prostration happened a few years ago. The musician and composer Ty Tabor could only exorcise and vent the large lump in his throat through verses and notes. After that, he realized that the collection of songs emerging was rather depressing, and fortunately, as time passed and the wounds of the heart began to heal, he wisely decided to add his latest creations to the collection, decidedly less funereal and lamenting, just what was needed to make it a little sunnier. And here is "Safety," his second solo album, year 2002. Ty Tabor is a highly esteemed musician, especially among insiders, the kind of guitarist who finds himself performing with his band (King's X) constantly in the presence of fellow musicians, more or less established and even very famous (more famous than him), who are there in the front row with ears and eyes wide open, not missing a move, savoring and taking notes on his perfect, compact sound, his impeccable timing, his resonant and deep arpeggios, his psychedelic and melodic solos. Tabor is also a decent vocalist and an esteemed composer, singing in a style reminiscent of John Lennon but with a sharper timbre, not entirely free from a cloying sweetness. He clearly excels with the instrument, which he always arranges like a master, with invaluable harmonic choices, powerful attack, and inventive rhythmic phrasing when working with distortion, sublime resonance, and perfect picking when using clean sounds (and what sounds!) or even switching to acoustic (the best acoustic guitar tone I know). Nothing too intricate or difficult, he's not one for fireworks or neck-racing on the fretboard, everything results in genius simplicity.

In this open-hearted work, so urgent and intense, Ty bans solos and instrumental convolutions for the most part, and the collection almost takes on a singer-songwriter aspect. It's a collection of tracks, mostly ballads, clearly made more for himself than for others. This does not mean that, with a great instrumentalist and arranger at work, one cannot find jewels of taste and skill everywhere, brilliant harmonic passages, formidable mixes of choirs, imperial guitar sounds. For example, the rolling and lyrical conduction of the semi-acoustic opening "Tulip (Your Eyes)" is splendid, as is its contrast with the following savory "Better To Be On Hold" infested with huge but perfectly controlled guitars in their distortion, while the vocals wander sharply and disjointedly, symbolizing the total loss of stability and certainties recounted in the lyrics. Magnificent then is the sound of the acoustic guitar in "Missing Love," played with a soft pick to highlight the attack on the strings. The track soon intensifies when surrounded by intense electric resonances, by rich Beatlesque harmonies, and by layers of lead guitar used as a string section.

In "Funeral", the contrast between the uncompromising, powerful guitar rhythm and the psychedelic and ethereal vocal charge is at its peak, it seems like hearing John Lennon out of his mind accompanied by Pantera! But the acoustic guitars quickly regain the upper hand for the subsequent "Room For Me" and "Safety", brimming with refined choirs (all Tabor's work, who as a good musical alchemist reiterates his voice infinitely). My favorite thing is at the end of the disc, entitled "I Don't Mind." After an initial murmur that is as psychedelic as can be, an imperial, broad, satisfying arpeggio explodes, over which Ty's heartfelt lament describes once again the anxieties and alienating sadnesses of abandonment. These are love songs. Broken love. But truly broken, without stereotypes, so everything is touching and engaging without needing to be particularly sentimental or whiny.

The man is genuine and bares himself without reservation. I provide as a valid example this attempt of mine at translating one of the lyrics ("Now I Am"): I suppose I've finally grown up when my wife was leaving me I was so used to having her by my side, I loved her, but I had to learn to love her so much that I allowed her to leave Because I am a man, I must be, and now I am I think she needed to give up many things about me, and at the beginning I was too broken to see and understand and do anything for me and for her She had to find her way, and I had to let her Because I am a man, I must be, now I am I found myself like before a fire, and I decided to walk through it It scarred my face, it hurt my body, but it gave me the strength to face myself And now I can file the memories on my shelf and move on Because I am a man, I must be, now I am