Customer Reviews

Sordid Lives

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Okay, we'll call it a "jazz" record; that's what the marketing strategy calls for. But despite the jazzy injections (I call them seizures -- and, yes, there's medication for that), it remains positively Blueish -- as we Blue fans only know -- and thus musically refreshing. Jazz fans may find themselves actually listening to it, rather than just pretending to listen, or more likely, relying on it to provide sound where there otherwise would or should not be sound. In other words, don't play this record at midnight to muffle the sounds you expect to be making while engaged in Clintonesque activities whilst in a thin-walled room.

So the record is "jazz", ...but not really. Blue wears a rockibilly guitar on his musical tool belt and, like any man, he finds a way to use the favorite tool. Remember that Blue is a founding member of the Beat Farmers, and you still picture him casting thin shadows and laying raunchy riffs across the drums of the late Country Dick Montana. Gone now, of course, are Country Dick (rest his soul) and Blue's thin shadows. But Blue's still got it and his band's good too. It's a real clean record, and that works for Blue's still smooth vocal quality. No polyps to be heard. Some songs could use a more live mix, but as this is his "jazz" record, we understand the intent.

The record opens strong with "Upsettin' Me". Call it "jazz" only because of the arrangement (as with many songs on the record), but it's not the jazz you'd get in music appreciation class; it's got slicked back hair and dark glasses on. It's marlboros in the sleeve cool. All thoughout you'll find good musicianship, particularly on the 2 or 3 instrumentals (who counts). Blue works the Gibson when he should, although some songs could stand to have the 6 string more prominent in the mix. "Jesse's Back in Town" is really just a jazzed-down rockibilly tune. Then follows a diversion of sorts, as Blue for whatever reason seizures into beebop, and expertly reinforces the fact that beebop is music generally devoid of melody. On St. James Infirmary he employs a slickery, slippery slide guitar over a nice Waitsish grove (if this is jazz, "jazz" ain't so bad after all). "Baby's Got the Blues" is another cut that has a distinctively Waitsish (i.e., "New Coat of Paint") feel. (If you need me to explain, stick with Kenny G). "Blues in the Night" is jazzed-up rockibilly foot-stomper, with the nice horns up front. If there was ever a lounge singer cult hero, Blue would give him a good run with his "Pray for Rain". Imagine compressors overloading, ice clanking, smoke hanging, lizard lips licking, lipstick slicking, clock ticking and you're there. The record wraps up with a real nice trumpet infused "era" ditty (something about Marcus Darvey) that invokes handlebar mustaches, bicycles with ridiculously over-sized front wheels, and people who talk like they're in an old movie. (The past ain't nothing but old movies anyway.)

So lots to like about this record.

Buddy Blue is one of the most underappreciated musicians most of the world has never known. Hopefully, this jazz infected gem should change that. He plays a mean guitar too, and for an ugly guy, sings real purty.

Of the 4 Buddy Blue albums I have, the songs on this album are the ones I sing along with the most. Highly recommend.