“If
Greg Laswell wasn't a throwback to the '70s he might be just another
singer/songwriter, but he has the heart and soul of the best the
early '70s had to offer--- Paul Simon to Jackson Browne to Jim Dawson
and Jim Post. At first, I thought it was the lyrics but I slowly came
to realize it is deeply embedded in Laswell himself. This is good
music only partially because of the music. It is good because what we
get is not just musician and music, but musician stripped bare by
tragic circumstance and rebuilt through monumental emotional
struggle. Ah, the good ole days.
So,
who is Greg Laswell? He's a San Diego musician who for the past few
years has supported much of the music scene by backing those ignored
by a music industry more worried about intellectual property than
music. Much of what he did previously was released on his own Twenty
Inch label ( I shall be doing extensive searches as soon as I'm done
typing this) and things seemed to be trucking right along until he
was blindsided by his wife, who left home one day and just never
returned. Her choice, of course, but one Laswell did not see coming.
It changed him.
For
the next few months, he put together the songs available here. What
kind of songs? Well, he fluctuates between light folk themes and wall
of sound power pop so effortlessly you find yourself wondering who
the hell is this guy and why have we not heard of him. He writes, he
sings, he produces and does all, judging from this album, exceedingly
well. His use of acoustic guitar and piano make his good songs
exceptional and his exceptional songs amazing. He fits the music to
his voice well and that voice, well, there is something beyond just
hitting the notes here (which he does). There is a texture, if you
will, and it adds that extra dimension to songs, sometimes making
chords vibrate with astounding depth.
There
are numerous high points, not the least of which is the title track.
Through
Toledo captures
that cross between today's music and that of '70s yesterday, tripping
lightly at a 6/8 clip, a slight jazz riff beneath a beautiful melody
voiced so easily and carried majestically along with classy
production. Since hearing this, I find myself yearning to drive up
San Fransisco (sic) Bay on a regular basis. If you want rock, I'm
Hit gives
you plenty, a wall of pop fuzz guitar supplying the base for assembly
line rhythms and a perfect vocal chorus. Laswell reaches way down and
lays out soft acoustic piano in High
and Low,
a plaintive cry for the love he lost, and he takes it that one step
further by ending in a sort of symphonic coda, a heart-rending and
beautiful musical picture of what once was but is no more.
You
really have to hear this to understand. He floats, he rocks, he
struggles and he makes it all work. He even crunches, albeit in a
melodic power-pop Oasis kind of way, and it's all good. To my ears,
it is beyond good. And I'm stuck. I have other CDs to review and an
article to write and I can't get Greg Laswell's music out of my head.
Actually, now that I think about it, that is good. At this moment,
I'd rather hear Laswell than all of the pretenders out there. He has
the goods. Buy
this CD."
(Frank Gutch Jr. writes and has written
for numerous magazines and websites, presently including this blog,
his
own website and the
prestigious Don't
Believe A Word I Say site
put together by musician and music pundit Bob Segarini,
out of Toronto. He specializes in the Indies, having fought
hand-to-hand combat with major record labels for decades (talk about
zombies).
He believes music should be the core of the music business, though
business it mostly be, and denies the accepted reality in the stead
of the artistic one. Seldom does he receive pay for articles and/or
reviews and believes that there is no place for negatives in a world
in which one cannot keep up with the positives. He is, in a sense, a
lost soul in a sea of music, drowning, but drowning gratefully.)
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