“Cramer’s easygoing grit is enough to simultaneously captivate and soothe listeners as a breath of breezy guitar tones and rollicking percussion swirl around it.” — PopMatters
“Cramer showcases a brooding openheartedness and warm crackly diversity of alt-country, ballads and studio rock reminiscent of early Whiskeytown and Hayes Carll.” — Glide Magazine
“A new Creative force on the Denver Folk Music Scene” — 303 Magazine
Colorado-based singer-songwriter Jeff Cramer has always harbored a desire to be surrounded by the same bright hues with which he imbues his art.
Growing up outside of Milwaukee, Cramer knew he had to escape the flatness of the Midwest — a gray, sterile cold he describes was like growing up “in The Matrix,” if the movie had taken place in a quiet family suburb. Starting in middle school, Jeff and his friends played old blues songs (some of which he thought were written by Eric Clapton; Wikipedia didn’t exist yet) and covered Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young tracks in their free time to escape into a world of color and texture. The inclination stuck, and Cramer graduated from being a self-described “angsty teenager” to interning at New York’s Nonesuch Records. There, he donned an 80s Bob Weir ponytail and was paid in NJ Transit rail credits, plus a daily handful of CDs from the Nonesuch vault.
Cramer’s summer at Nonesuch coincided with the release of A Ghost Is Born, the alt-rock staple Wilco’s fifth studio album. He remembers the specialness he sensed in it, the space between young, edgy alt-country and dad rock — the kind of record you know within the first 30 seconds will stand the test of time. It’s a nifty in-between he managed to emulate first in his debut 2019 album Northern 45, and even more intentionally in 2024’s Forever Morning. Now, he’s bringing that energy to his first live album: the triumphant, exuberant Live at the Bluebird.
Forever Morning, a triumphant 16-track journey through precipitous crags and sun-soaked valleys of homelands real and imagined, was recorded alongside acclaimed producer Andrew Berlin. Cramer realized the album over the course of two years at Colorado’s iconic Blasting Room Studios. It’s a buzzing mix of warm, compact drums and strummed acoustics, things Cramer hears in his head when the light shines through his curtains in the morning. It’s a joyous escape, a celebration of life with all its strange little corners. Cramers aimed to “revel and dance” in the places he has been, reinventing them in a way that created meaning for him. For him, they’re like shadow work, lucid dreams he urges the listener to have alongside him.
Live at the Bluebird, a mixture of Cramer classics and new hits from Forever Morning, took place in Denver last September. Recording a live album has been Cramer’s dream since he was a kiddo; concert albums made the artists he loved seem like real, breathing people. Cramer’s live band — Dave Devine on a searing electric, Emma Rose on bass and ethereal harmonies, and expert masterer Tyler Lindgren on drums — had one night to rehearse together for the venue, and the spontaneity of the performance shines through in its pure, unadulterated energy. Cramer’s at his best like this: stripped down, revved up. Live at the Bluebird is less of an album than it is an invitation to lose oneself in the joy of raw sound.
Both albums represent an evolution from Northern 45, an album in which Cramer let his admiration for his folk forefathers take the lead. Replete with gentle acoustic strums and rollicking vocals, the LP garnered Cramer admiration as a budding bluegrass artist. Next came The Shed Sessions, a series of live recorded performances recorded in fall 2020 with The Wooden Sound. Cramer and his band intermixed his own songs with John Prine and Gillian Welch, a tapestry of folk tradition weaving into the strings of his Taylor. After the shed sessions, Cramer took a hiatus to focus on his work as a clean energy advocate — he figures artists who sing about loving America ought to walk the walk.
Five years on, Forever Morning and Live at the Bluebird are both labors of love, born out of an admiration for the mythos of folk music and a desire to push it against its traditional limits. They’re celebrations of a sprawling childhood and an unknown future, sprinkled with nods to Willie Nelson (who Cramer represented on 5 consecutive Halloweens in his late 20s) and Nietzsche (who contributed significantly and unoriginally to his teenage angst). Interwoven in Cramer’s deft fingerpicking and his soft, gravelly drawl is an acknowledgment: that the quintessential American wonderment he pays homage to is not without its dark spots — and that without those dark spots, the light wouldn’t shine quite so bright.
Further important facts about Jeff Cramer’s musical consciousness include:
If he could, he’d love to play a concert in space — but only if it were for the primary benefit of earthlings.
His first instrument was the flute, but, with all due respect to flutists, he moved on to guitar as soon as he was allowed. He does regret not being able to play the sitar.
He thinks his music is made to be listened to through the original sound system of a 1997 Subaru Outback on a warm, green day.
He thinks it possible that Meriwether Lewis and Thomas Jefferson had a torrid affair while Lewis lived in the White House (see, off his debut album, “Band of Brothers” for further proof.)
One time, Paul McCartney and John Lennon sang an original song for him in a dream. He woke up and recorded the song on Forever Morning, because he is nothing if not loyal to the greats.
His is a type 4 enneagram. Other type 4 artists include Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell, Billie Holiday, and the celebrity magician Criss Angel.
If he could have dinner with any artist, it would be 70s-era Jerry Garcia. They would eat oysters and drink sparkling white wine. If they were really lucky, 70s-era Jim Harrison and Joni Mitchell would stop by, too.
Though he is a millennial, he cannot remember ever having worn a beanie.
With these facts in mind, Jeff urges you to give Forever Morning and Live at the Bluebird a good listen. He worked hard on them, and he thinks they’re pretty swell.