Singing out loud

Boston's own Melissa Ferrick finally finds Freedom

by Pamela Berry

GRRRL TALK

It's easy to see how some people might get the "two Melissas" mixed up. Both attended the Berklee School of Music. Both play their guitars with furious intensity. Both have distinctive voices. And, yes, both are openly gay. But that's where the similarities end. Melissa Etheridge is a household name, but big-time commercial success still manages to elude Melissa Ferrick.

This may be why the performer remains so grounded, despite recent near-sellout performances in Providence, Northampton, and Boston. Ferrick made the trip back east at Thanksgiving time, driving cross-country from Los Angeles to see her family in Ipswich, Massachusetts. Glad to be making the pilgrimage home, she was eager to rekindle her relationship with her local fans.

It's the fans, she says, who remind her why she continues to push on in spite of setbacks, sacrifices, and never-ending touring. It's her connection to her fans, especially the ones here on her home turf, that helps Ferrick keep on struggling to achieve success.

Ferrick is no stranger to brushing off her scraped knees, putting her chin up, and moving on. Her story is a mixture of rock-and-roll fantasy and hard reality, but it's not the sort of tale you often read about in the pages of Rolling Stone or Spin.

In 1991, Ferrick was at home when the phone rang. It was the call that every artist dreams about. Morrissey needed an opening act for his Great Woods show. There wasn't enough time for stage fright; just one hour later, Ferrick was playing in front of thousands of people who had never even heard of the 20-year-old. By the time she left the stage, Ferrick had won over the crowd and gained a local fan base.

Morrissey was also charmed by Ferrick's bittersweet lyrics and her strong stage presence. He asked her to open for him during the remainder of his US tour, and to continue as his opening act back in the UK. When Ferrick returned to the States after the tour, the record companies came knocking at her door, waving contracts in her face. She signed with Atlantic Records -- not bad for a former Berklee student who left school with only a dream in her back pocket.

But pockets do sometimes get holes in them, as Ferrick found out in 1995. After two critically acclaimed albums, Massive Blur and Willing To Wait, Atlantic Records unapologetically dropped her from the label during what she calls a "transitional" period for the company.

At age 25, she was perceived as a wash-up by the industry. Her moment of fame seemed already to have come and gone. "It was the darkest period of my life," Ferrick recalls. But it was also the beginning of a journey that led her to reconcile her anger and self-doubt and to discover, unexpectedly, a new sense of tranquillity. She began to find herself again, and in the process became determined to climb her way back up the ladder of musical success.

In 1997, Ferrick signed with What Are Records, an indie label known for viewing its musicians as partners rather than commodities. That same year, she released +1, a live album that received a fair share of positive press. The album also got more airplay than her two previous albums had, giving Ferrick the confidence she needed to "get back on track," she says. In 1998, she scored big with a new album, Everything I Need, and put on an unforgettable performance at the Lilith Fair at Great Woods.

Now, her much-anticipated fifth album, Freedom, is slated for release next spring. "This is by far my best work to date," she states proudly. Ferrick mixed the album herself with the help of her producer. "There's no one to blame but me if it doesn't do well," she says.

In many ways, this record is remarkably different from her previous albums. The lyrics, for example, are sparer and more provocative, as on "Drive," one of the new tracks closest to her heart. "The song `Drive,' " she explains, "is a song about yearning . . . it's about a deep hunger for someone."

Ferrick has managed to get rid of some of her demons. She got sober, and stopped obsessing over a love that she couldn't have, she says. (One of her favorite lines from the new album, from the title track, is: "I'm afraid of settling down into a love that isn't really love at all.") But, though Ferrick has grown artistically, fans can still expect to hear the same crisp, alternative-folk flavor on Freedom that has always been her trademark.

Ferrick willingly gives her fans access to her newfound insight, her take on spirituality, and her view of relationships. After all, she says, the biggest reward for her comes after, not during, her performances. Any doubts she might feel about her struggles as an artist disappear when her fans, many of whom are still coming to terms with their own sexuality, come backstage and thank her for her music. "Knowing that my music is helping someone through a pivotal time in her life makes it all worthwhile," Ferrick says.

Look for Freedom in record stores in March. In the meantime, keep an eye out for more area performances this winter. Because Ferrick loves to play for Boston fans, she says, she may be adding more local shows to her schedule.

Pamela Berry writes feature stories for People2People.com. She can be reached at pamela_berry@yahoo.com.

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