Oct 22, 2010

JOE KILE "Southern Beauty Queen" LP

Getting pinned as a "singer-songwriter" can be either a blessing or a curse. To most people means denim shirt wearing Mr. Softee's like James Taylor and Dan Fogelberg. It's a pleasant and pretty and doesn't scare off grandmothers and little kids. And of YOU KNOW they're singing from their heart because you can hear their voice that doesn't ever crack clearly in the big soft comforter production. Of course those in that camp music is a remedy to fall asleep that is just effective as a couple shots of NyQuil PM with Wild Turkey chaser. But that's besides the point. After all "Just listen to their self confessional sensitivity'.
Then there's the other camp. The one that has Townes Van Zandt, Gene Clark, Daniel Johnston (well, in his "True Love Will Find You In The End" period at least) and Uncle Lou Reed during the last couple Velvet Underground albums. While all the first camp sounds like they're wearing cable knit sweaters in front of some cozy fireplace in a Colorado mountain cabin or staring at a mountain of blow in some Laurel Canyon hideaway and, in either setting, a blonde with with ironed straight hair-the second sounds dressed in faded and frayed clothes and playing for tips in some broken down coffee house or a dive bar that's usual clientele is there not to hear some songs but because the place has the cheapest cheap draft beer and well whiskey prices in town. They'll listen to the sorrow as they drown their own. The person giving the six string accompanied confessionals love probably works behind the bar but she isn't there tonight and isn't answering her phone either. That's the camp New Orleans based Joe Kile has set up tent in.
Owning a voice that sounds like old wax paper, a surface that is smooth but sports some discoloration from age and somewhat brittle & will crackle Joe Kile's songs sounds as if they were recorded at 4am and as hushed as he could be as to not wake the others dwelling around a pay by the week efficiency apartment and to be listened by those nursing a very melancholy Sunday morning hangover. Accompanied mostly by a weather beaten guitar save for the occasional second guitar, some pump organ sounding wheezes and a couple drinking buddies supplying a few seconds of call and response the songs touches on loves losts, lusts wanted, bad luck and many mentions of winter. They all sound as if they could fade off into distance at any given moment so they're songs that are made to be listened close as they could just disappear. When doing so there's slight rays of light trying to fight their ways out of the overcast.
http://www.easternwattsrecords.com/

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