COME ALONG CARMELITA reviews...
If you're into picking adjectives as descriptive and all-inclusive
Cliff's Notes for records, this one gets filed under "Smooth."
As in silk. That's obvious from the first few bars of "The
Checkout Girl." It earns high praise simply because it's
no mean feat to make a heavily Cajun-influenced track sound smooth.
The two terms just don't seem meant to dance, at least not together,
but Cuddy turns in a sweet shuffle of a song here that sounds
as if Ole Boudreaux has made his way to Key Largo. Apparently,
though, he had the Trailer Park Troubadours rocking in the truck
on his way across I-20: That's when I fell in love with the checkout girl Of course, having a ringer like Fats Kaplin (Tom Russell,
Manhattan Transfer) on the accordion is good for smoothing a
few bumps in the road. What's so unabashedly cool here, though, is that regardless
of genre, every track is indelibly stamped with the sweetness
of practiced delivery that only the most accomplished and polished
musicians can pull off. Couple that brand of sparkling musicianship
with a true storyteller's sense of lyric, you find yourself mesmerized
in a hurry. From the fiddle-driven turn of the century tale
of a wanderer turned convict about to be hanged of "Lyin'
In My Dreams" to the nostalgic and beautiful waltz behind
"Queen Of the Ball" and its love at first sight theme,
Come Along Carmelita serves up visually complete and sometimes
stunning slices of life with unrelenting passion and deft ease.
Take, for example, the lounge-styled slow jazz number "The
Beginning Of the End," whose apparently simple lyric belies
a prescient recognition of pain: Blend a martini just right for this one, and let Al Cross'
muffled snare sift the sands of uneasiness as the resophonic
guitar paints a picture of bleakness replete with dark pleather
couches and a black dinner gown walking away. A standout track, one that highlights the way an adept songwriter
can make an obvious point without sliding into the abyss of mediocrity,
emerges with the Celtic-sounding and initially bouncy "Henry
Morgan the Pirate." The medieval melody, with its near
iambic rhyme and driving string bass, is immaculately suited
to the tale of a seafaring ne'er-do-well with mighty ambitions.
As fate would have it, though, this pirate's plans reach fruition
with his son, who's down on Wall Street now: As relevant as that track seems in today's headlines, its
impact fades as the title cut wafts in on a mandolin wind to
soothe the lovelorn soul of a wounded beauty. Lushly arranged,
yet understated, it's a beautiful and calming effort in reverse
psychology as the narrator whispers to the broken heart that
"There is no harm I've found/If you live in the ground/There
will only be fresh mountain dreams to dream." Will she
take the admonishment at face value and wither? Or will she
decide to flower once again? Don't know. But the conversation's
a gem to overhear, and in its own way sets the stage nicely for
the 50's feel of "Just For A Thrill," another track
bent on exploring all the crazy things our hearts will do when
a lover does them wrong, and all the crazy, precarious places
we find ourselves in as a result: That sort of insight, the ability to take a visceral look
at a psyche laid bare and couch it in music both accessible and
listenable, may be a big part of why Cris' CD release party in
the States will feature Rockzillaworld favorite Phil Lee.
If the immediate musical styles don't seem to match, no matter
- - the marrow is the key and nothing is off limits. Need proof?
See "What If Frankie Doesn't Like It," an orchestral,
haunting visit to Old Blues Eyes' alleged mob ties through the
eyes of a couple of employees who've been into the take a bit
too much. There's even a country song here, hell almost a cowboy song,
and it goes to show that even Canadians (Cuddy's from Ontario)
have an inkling of what it really takes to be a man. "Way
Out West" employs a mournful fiddle to bittersweet perfection
as the wide open places crystallize in the mind's eye and a perfectly
measured baritone with just enough grit to make a difference
lays out the bottom line. The one lesson Henry Morgan didn't teach his son, right there.
Maybe Ken Lay will wake up and get it right for his kids. Maybe
not. Does that put the ball back in our court, where it's belonged
all along? Therein lies the beauty of Come Along Carmelita. On
a wide open highway with the top down and no speed traps in sight,
this record's a perfect easy listen. In a La-Z-Boy with a whiskey
on the rocks, it's a provocative page-turner with open-ended
stories to make you think. And in the back of your mind, where
its infectious sound quickly nestles in to stay for a spell,
it's a peaceful, satisfying soundtrack for plenty of things you
saw today and some you hope you will or won't see tomorrow depending
on your state of mind. A keeper from top to bottom, not a throwaway
track in sight. Find out for yourself at www.criscuddy.com, where you can read the
entire lyrics from each song and listen to some samples. Read
first - - get the marrow. Then get the record, find you a sunset,
and enjoy.
Media reps can contact Cris Cuddy directly at 905-649-1521 or criscuddymusic@aol.com
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