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Kelly is an Australian singer-songwriter much loved in his homeland, but distressingly underappreciated everywhere else. Because he focuses on working-class life, he's sometimes compared to
Bruce Springsteen, but really his best albums are closer to the unassuming art of British film director Mike Leigh. Kelly hit what appeared to be his creative peak in the late '80s and early '90s, most notably on
Gossip and
Under the Sun. What followed was a string of releases that included great songs but as much (or more) filler.
Thankfully, the two-disc Ways & Means is Kelly's most consistently satisfying disc in at least a decade. Book-ended by two Melbourne surf instrumentals, its 21 songs capture love in its many splendid and splintered forms. Kelly's lyrical gifts are sharp as ever, whether he's detailing a three-sided romance as it morphs over decades ("The Oldest Story in the Book"), praising the carnal delights of "Curly Red," or describing the thrall of romantic rapture ("Forty Eight Angels"). Credit is also due to Kelly's best band in a long time (in particular the twin guitar attack of Dan Luscombe and Dan Kelly), as well as the just-polished-enough production of Tchad Blake. Very smart and very adult, Ways & Means doesn't fit the template for a big 21st century hit, but it deserves a far wider audience that it's likely to find. --Keith Moerer
Product Description
(Bonus Disc contains 10 new songs) Some of us who should know better pronounce "love songs" with a silent "silly" - as if there were a higher kind. Paul Kellys new collection, Ways and Means, containing nineteen unruly examples of the species (plus two breezy instrumentals), shows the prejudice for what it is. His new songs roil and seethe with feeling, wondering at their own abandon and delighting in the ride. Beautiful Feeling unfolds like a flower, shy stirrings blooming to proud radiance. 48 Angels begins as awestruck adoration and loses itself in rapture. Elsewhere, loss of self is an explicit aim: in Wont You Come Around, the singer anxiously assures his lover: "only you can make this brain shut down". This vision of oblivious bliss isnt wholly rose-tinted., To Be Good may be raucous and cavalier, with barrelhouse piano, but its also haunted: by the ghost of Hank Williams and a persistent vision of sin. Having toured for most of 2002, Kelly decided, as he puts it, "to throw the balls up in the air again": to assemble a new set of accompanists. The new combination -- slide guitar, backing falsetto, "dweeby keyboard lines," and a Curtis Mayfield/Stones 70s vibe -- clicked. The album was recorded without fuss in Melbourne last winter, with producer Tchad Blake cocking an ear for the performance that was ragged but right. Theyre fresh and resilient and full of love. Produced by Tchad Blake & Paul Kelly
Paul Kelly - Lead Vocal and Acoustic Guitar Peter Luscombe - Drums & Percussion Bill McDonald Bass Dan Luscombe - Electric Guitar, Slide and Keyboards Dan Kelly - Electric Guitar, Banjo and Fiddle Graeme Lee Pedal Steel on Forty Eight Angels, Beautiful Feeling and Little Bit O Sugar Bruce Haymes Piano on To Be Good Takes A Long Time
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