Memphis proved good fit for rootsy duo Deering & Down

Ebet Roberts

They're not a romantic couple, but Lahna Deering and the Rev. Neil Down have lasted for 14 years as partners in rock and roll.

Sitting in a Downtown coffeehouse on Valentine's Day, Lahna Deering and the Rev. Neil Down, who make up the joined-at-the-hip Memphis roots-rock duo Deering and Down, clear up a common misconception.

"We are not a romantic item," says Down, anticipating the question before it's even asked. "We are musical collaborators. Let's face it: She's not too hard on the eyes, but I'm just glad we've been able to do this music together."

It's a common mistake, but in a way the two have developed a bond deeper than most amorous entanglements. Musical partners for 14 years, their union has lasted longer than a lot of marriages. And they have produced their own offspring as well, the latest of which, the duo's third CD, Out There Somewhere, will have its christening Saturday at a release party at the Hi-Tone Café.

"When we first met, something clicked," Down says. "People immediately recognized that there was something there."

Adds Deering: "From the very beginning, he was this positive light telling me, 'Yeah, let's play music.' I was just drawn to him because he could really play, stuff that I always wanted to play along with. I was inspired by his playing. It was something I wanted to try and be a part of."

Down was raised in the Pacific Northwest. As a child, his mother's nickname for him was rêve, French for "dream," but when he got older, he dropped the last "e" and became the Rev. Neil Down, a jokey pseudonym.

"Now I can't ever convince people that I was cute," says the middle-aged Down, whose colorful appearance -- kind of '50s greaser with a goatee and a cane-assisted limp from recent surgery — stands in contrast to the strawberry-blond farmer's-daughter looks of his 30-year-old partner.

After flirtations with piano and trumpet, Down got a guitar as a teenager and began the nomadic lifestyle he lives to this day. He hung out with the Latin jam band War in Los Angeles. He was recording demos for Capitol Records in Tulsa, Okla., in the early '80s when he borrowed a Lincoln to make his first trip to Memphis. On a visit to the old Blues Alley club, he met Rufus Thomas and Ma Rainey II.

Another place he has frequented is Alaska. It was in 1998 in the panhandle town of Skagway that Down met local café owner Joan Deering and her 16-year-old daughter, an aspiring singer and guitar player.

"I knew she couldn't possibly be good," Down says of first meeting Lahna Deering. "But then I heard her sing and play, and she blew my mind."

The two quickly became collaborators, and after Deering graduated from high school, they hit the road with a sound characterized by Down's tasteful and expressive blues-inspired guitar playing and Deering's soulful voice, a raspy, evocative wail that sounds like it comes from a woman with many more years under her belt.

Eight years ago, Deering and Down were working out of Florida when, on a trip to California for some gigs, they stopped in Memphis. Some friends got them tickets to an Elvis tribute concert at the Cannon Center, and they were struck by the openness of the event, fans and musicians brought together by a shared love for music, the kind of roots-based music that they loved, too.

After a disheartening West Coast trip, they stopped by again and recorded some songs at Sun Studio before going back home.

"We just kind of rallied ourselves and said, 'We like Memphis. We've got to go back there,'" Deering says.

Deering and Down moved here in 2005, and it has proved a good fit. In 2007, the band made its second CD — following the 2001 debut, Coupe de Villa

. With its subtle lacing of early rock and rockabilly influences, Break This Record seemed very much in the spirit of Sun Records.

For Out There Somewhere, Deering and Down continue their tour through the city's musical history, albeit in a different direction. The record was recorded at South Memphis' Royal Recording Studios, best known as the base of operations for Al Green and Hi Records in the '70s. The sessions, which evoke a country-soul vibe akin to Stax artists Delaney and Bonnie or Bobbie Gentry, would prove to be among the last overseen by the studio's legendary head, Willie Mitchell, before he died in January 2010.

"I feel very fortunate to have gotten to work with him," says Down, who knew they had to record at Royal when one of the duo's songs came on the radio as he drove away from his first meeting with "Pops" Mitchell. "It was almost like it was destined. Willie knew who we were. It was that kind of feeling, like going to see Black Elk speak. 'I knew you were coming; what took you so long?'"

With his son and musical heir Lawrence "Boo" Mitchell producing, Pops brought in some of his legendary musical collaborators, including guitarist Mabon "Teenie" Hodges, keyboardist Charles Hodges and drummer Howard Grimes, to work on the sessions. He and saxophonist Lannie McMillan provided arrangements for a stellar horn section that also included Gary Topper, Marc Franklin and Kirk Smothers. And the elder Mitchell oversaw mixing and generally dispensed wisdom and levity during the proceedings.

"It was magic cutting with those guys," Deering says. "I remember when Howard Grimes came in and said, 'I said a prayer this morning that we make a hit album.' And I just totally got the shivers."

Deering and Down record release party

9 p.m. Saturday at the Hi-Tone Café, 1913 Poplar. Cover: $5. For more information, call (901) 278-8663, or visit hitonememphis.com.

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