The disc opens with “Pride and Joy”, which was first made famous by Stevie Ray Vaughan and his band Double Trouble back in the early ‘80s. For starters, it takes a lot of guts to cover a Vaughan song, as that man was one of the greatest modern bluesmen of our time. But Dillon carries it off with style and grace, and sounds perfectly comfortable singing and playing the tune. This track also shows off Dillon’s guitar skills, which are ample. But you never get the feeling he’s trying to show off. After all, the best guitarists always seem to make the difficult appear easy, and that’s precisely what happens during this recording.

“The Stars of White Cedars”, however, shows off a completely different side of Dillon’s varied musical personality. With its guitar, fiddle, and harmonica, this one is a gentle little folk instrumental. It was written to express how Dillon feels about the gorgeous night stars at the White Cedar’s Campground in Dacre, Ontario. As this sweet tune rolls right along, it’s easy to imagine using this music as a soundtrack for a little contemplative stargazing.

Dillon is also adept at playing music that is just plain and simple dance fare. The track “Squeezebox Song” is exactly what its title would lead you to believe – a hot stepping dance number. While not anything close to any hardcore Cajun stomp, this song nevertheless makes you want to get up and move a bit. After all, that’s the whole point.

In a few places, Dillon even gets a little personal with his music. One titled “Lynn’s Song”, for instance, is about a friend that recently passed away too soon. It is clear Dillon misses her greatly, especially when he sings, “I cry out to you/Please help me write this song.” After the death of this good friend, Rob has put effort into raising money for the fight against cancer, the illness that took her life. And as we’ve all been touched by cancer, in one way or another, it’s easy to understand why such a song is so important to Dillon. Furthermore, “Renfrew” is a country song where Dillon recalls his grandfather playing the fiddle, as well as other familial recollections. As he says it, this song is all about “small town memories,” and is intended as a tribute to the town of Renfrew, Ontario, Canada where Dillon is from.

Rob Dillon’s The One is not intended to change the music world as we know it. He’s not trying to be the next Dylan; he doesn’t even spell his last name the same way. Instead, he set out to make a personal statement about the people, places, and music he loves. And at that goal, he succeeds easily. It’s a little like a musical letter from home, where you don’t need to know a whole lot about the guy to get a good first impression of what he’s all about. With that said, this assessment takes nothing away from the obvious quality of his music. We’ve all received letters and emails from people that just can’t write, right? And although it’s wonderful to hear from them, it sometimes can be a trial just understanding what they’re trying to say. Yet Dillon has composed his little note from home skillfully and artfully. Even if you don’t give a rip about his life – and shame on you if you don’t – it’s impossible not to feel good after listening to Dillon’s personalized dispatch.

Review by Dan MacIntosh

Grace closes her album, quite appropriately, with a song titled “Butterfly”. She receives much inspiration from the final life form beauty of a colorful butterfly. “I took a fancy to a butterfly,” she sings, “she took me flying on the wings of desire.” However, Grace is just as enamored with the supernatural world, as she is with her natural surroundings. In one song called “Believe” that contemplates extraterrestrial life, she asks the question: “Do you believe in Angels?” There’s the pull of the natural world, which basically tells us that what we see, is what we get and that’s all there is. But there is also something that tugs at the imagination of even the staunchest atheist: Is there really more than can be seen with the naked eye? Elsewhere, Grace recognizes the angelic characteristics in mortal humans, too. During a track called “Love Makes”, she recalls meeting a woman who “was white as snow.” This woman “was an angel, in an earthly groove.” Perhaps this is where we truly encounter the divine; whenever it intersects within earthly beings, and inhabits them in a most spiritual way.

Like a butterfly, Grace has a naturally beautiful voice. Without question, she is a professionally trained singer that must certainly have sung operas at one point in her career. However, this CD is packed with personal songs about a personal journey, which would be difficult to replicate in the oftentimes overly dramatic world of your typical opera.

In many cases, these songs are quiet, demanding close attention. In contrast to, say, an R&B singer, Grace rarely uses her fine vocal instrument to reach out and grab the listener’s attention by the collar. Instead, she invites you into her quiet, contemplative world softly, where you’ll likely need to slow down your racing brain and walk, not run, to completely get it.

As pretty as Grace’s voice is – and it is quite a fine talent to behold – it’s an extra treat to hear her break out slightly soulfully a few times. This aural changeup is particularly notable with the song “Sweeter than Rain”, which brings to mind Carole King’s distinctive blue-eyed soul. Grace is also a skilled musician, too. On this disc, for instance, she plays guitar and keyboards. She also knows about the whole DIY process, as she produced and recorded this CD all by her lonesome.

Nearly everything about this project points to a magical world, whether it is a world that can be seen or not. In fact, the disc was recorded at a studio named, The Faery House At The End Of The Garden in West London. And somehow, that little geographical fact should come as no great surprise to anybody.  As was stated at the outset, Karen Grace shares the whole concept album approach with rockers like the Beatles and the Beach Boys. But Paul McCartney and Brian Wilson often create musical fantasy worlds with their music as well, which means that Grace has more in common with these superstars than one might assume upon first impression.

Grace expresses the tension that exists between who we are as human beings and who we hope to be someday. But it’s also true that we are beautiful already, just the way we are. God doesn’t make junk. Sure, cynics may think such a statement is too close to Mr. Rogers Neighborhood for comfort. However, it’s essential to point out that, while Grace is on a quest for personal metamorphosis, she is – because of all her instrumental, lyrical, and vocal talent – quite beautiful already.

Review by Dan MacIntosh

The best Grutka is one that digs old R.E.M. recordings, and even older Byrds discs. “Denver (Spinning Around)” is one such winning guitar jangle fest that brings to mind those days back when Michael Stipe mumbled his lyrics and nobody cared. The song’s lyric talks about seeking meaning in travel. While name-dropping big city names all over the States, Grutka mentions at one point: “Walking out will set you free/When I finally left the path they’d shown me.” This last line, in particular, suggests that true happiness is only discovered when one sets out to make his or her own path. “Come With Me” comes off a little like a nice Byrds-y ballad. Its lyric also suggests there is power in motion. “Take me by the hand, come away,” Grutka pleads. Grutka uses a similar lyrical device during “The Sea” where he suggests, “Take my hand and life is sweet”.

If this album is a puzzle, then some of its pieces don’t seem to fit. “Sunshine” has some nice faux-classical production, which is still slightly out of place, but “Standing Beside Me” is based around drum machine synth-pop which may not be Grutka’s best fitting musical outfit. Speaking of synth-pop, by the way, “Everything” appears to have stolen the melody for the Pet Shop Boys’ “It’s A Sin”. But this song, which tries to convince a girl that everything in her life is leading her to him, has a bit of a musical hall shuffle going for it, with sweet, almost barbershop, harmonies. In other words, outside of the melody, this ain’t no Pet Shop Boy track.

This album’s title shows up in its last song, called “Lifetime (Ria)”, which is the quietist track on the record. Like a lot of the other songs on this CD, its lyric is deeply philosophical. It’s hard to tell if Grutka is praising God, a girl, or some other unnamed or vaguely described benefactor. He sings: “The gifts you bring tonight/Make me whole again/Whispers in the wind/My own”. It’s the sort of song that closes proceedings by reassuring listeners that Grutka has found some sort of personal peace. It also suggests that this is not a peace discovered by everyone. “See all the people in the night/Who say they’d like to know it.”

Grutka’s voice is on the thin side, which sometimes hampers the effectiveness of his singing. But he does the best he can with what he has, and surrounds himself with complimentary production that allows his voice to nicely fit in, rather treat it like a vocal showcase. Ria is a good pop album, for lack of a better term. There are cases where Grutka inputs rock elements, such as a Neil Young-ish electric guitar solo at one point. But these elements are always in service of the songs, and never cases for Grutka to get all crazy and rock out. It’s readily apparent that Grutka enjoys experimenting. Far too often, artists get in the studio with rigid visions, and output equally rigid recordings. However, if Grutka wants any advice on the one primary style to stick with, the jaunty pop of “Denver (Spinning Around)” is so enjoyable, another 11 songs nearly like it wouldn’t at all be a bad thing. It’s the sort of song that sounds like a hit. It’s also the kind of song you’d likely turn up loud if you heard it on the radio. And because it’s lyric is primarily about travel, it’s almost the perfect road song.

Mike Grutka has a lot of fine music in him. One has to wonder what else he has up his sleeve.

Review by Dan MacIntosh

With that said, this is the only truly politically-charged track on the CD.  Elsewhere, Rivard is a hopeless, yet literate and intelligent, romantic. The very moment after he gets the vitriol out of his system with “Underground Railroad”, he is gushing about finding true love. It’s the perfect transitional link to an album of mostly love songs too, as it begins.  “Outside it is snowing/But you and I are glowing”. The cold weather is, perhaps, analogous to the chilly race relations confronted with “Underground Railroad”, whereas Rivard’s statement about creating a romantic glow proves that, even though the world is going wrong in many ways, love still survives.

In fact, Rivard utilizes many weather-related lyrical devices to express his perspective throughout this project.  “Coldest Place” speaks of a love, much like an extinguished fire, that is cold and no longer burning. In contrast, “The Sun Finally Rose” compares the illumination of a new love relationship to the rising of the sun.  “When you walked into my life/The sun finally rose”.

One song in particular directly references Rivard’s role as a songwriter.  “Unfinished Songs” is about just what its title suggests: unfinished songs.  One imagines that for every great song a songwriter creates, there are many others that never reach completion, let alone wind up on a CD.  What makes this track stand out most of all is its ending. The last line reads, “Of this ragged and rusted collection of unfinished…”. Get it? You’re expecting to hear the word “songs” at the end of that line, but, like a lot of his aborted musical creations, this line remains unfinished.  Although it is aurally abrupt, this tactic is effective and perfectly makes Rivard’s point.

Rivard also includes a fine character study among these twelve new recordings.  “Nobody Knows” tells the story of a lonely woman, who is described as being “wounded in childhood” and a “motherless wanderer.” It’s difficult to decipher if this is one woman in particular or a composite of a few pitiful lives.  That point doesn’t really matter, however, because Rivard’s words describe a person we’ve all known at one time or another.  This is a restless person, one who keeps moving in hopes of finding a home.  “Flying and fleeing wherever the chilly wind blows,” the lyrics state, and one can just picture, perhaps, a homeless lady in search of a better life. Or it could just be a teenager that doesn’t feel loved at home, as is suggested by the following line: “Up in her bedroom the gray dust is gathering”.  It all adds up to an empathetic song about someone who is tragically unloved.

Rivard is a multi-instrumentalist (playing various guitars and percussion instruments), as well as being bilingual and singing a few of these tracks in Spanish.  At times, he sounds like the aforementioned Stevie Wonder.  At other moments he may remind you of Santana.  In every style he inhabits, however, Rivard comes off sincerely passionate.  The listener is left with the impression that Rivard takes everything seriously, and to heart.  He doesn’t write songs just to be clever, that’s for sure.  Rather, the songs from his pen begin first with his heart.  If it was Rivard’s goal to express his heart through this music, he succeeded thoroughly.

Review by Dan MacIntosh

There are moments when Vere comes off somewhat like a female version of John Denver.  It’s not hard to imagine that Rocky Mountain man, for instance, singing the praises of nature, as happens during “My Backyard”, or considering a family heirloom, as Vere does with “Grandma’s Old Guitar”. Folk is probably the most encapsulating description of what Vere creates, although there’s a whole lot of country thrown into this mix.  Vere is at her country best during “Which Train Did I Miss”, which rumbles down the tracks at a mighty powerful clip.  It’s a road song, and every songwriter’s got one in him/her.  “The room we had to stay in had some uninvited guests”, Vere says of this icky, literal roach motel.

The major change Vere made in her life involved coming out as a lesbian, but there aren’t a whole lot of lesbian-themed songs on this disc.  “The Girl Next Door”, a folk-y, horn-accented track, however, speaks out about Vere’s life change.  It begins with Vere confessing, “I wrote this song it’s kind of gay”, and she’s being quite literal.

Vere is pictured in the CD’s artwork holding and playing a trusty acoustic guitar, and acoustic-centered country-rock is her bread and butter.  She steps away from this musical direction briefly, however, by ending the project by singing “Pinch Me”, which is piano-based, as well as guitar colored.  It’s also Vere’s most straightforward love song.  Rather than come off like the toughened observer she plays much of the rest of the time, Vere sounds positively giddy with romantic love.  “Just about every single time I hear your name/My heart skips a beat” she proclaims, like a head-over-heels in-lover.

This singer/songwriter appears to be torn between her complex current life, and the simple lifestyle she desires.  A song like “Levi Strauss” was likely inspired by a favorite pair of jeans, just as “Grandma’s Old Guitar” is about a favorite relative and “My Backyard” zeroes in on a favorite beatific place.  By writing this way, Vere will likely come off far less threatening than, say, Melissa Etheridge, who treats sexuality like a dangerous minefield.  Vere only wants to be with the one – and ones – she loves, as well as surrounded by things she obtains pleasure from.  You don’t get the feeling she aims to cause any waves or engage in sexual politics; she is what she is, that’s all.

However, all this album’s playing nice sometimes makes one long for a little more edge from Vere.  A little vitriol is probably good for the soul; if nothing else, it’s particularly nice on the ears.  There’s an old newspaper saying, which states that stories about dogs biting humans are immediately downplayed.  But the moment a man bites a dog, now that’s news!  Domesticity is great for stable relationships, but it doesn’t always lead to engaging art.  Toni Vere is here just to be who she is, so don’t expect any daring career moves.  Instead, she’s a seeker of the good – but simple – life, and she wants to tell you about this uncomplicated life in song.

Review by Dan MacIntosh

This disc’s variety can be starkly different, even from track to track.  “Solamente La Samba”, for instance, is a hot little number, especially notable for its spicy trumpet work.  Yet “Magnolia”, which follows directly after it, is a sweet ‘n soft country ballad, colored with twang-y guitar and empathetic fiddle.  Getting back to our wedding reception analogy, the dance crowds would be completely different for each of these singled-out selections.  By the way, country musical elements also enter into the picture once again with the descriptively titled “Saturday Night Honky Tonk”, which closes out this release.  Hey, rednecks like to dance, too!

Zupe spells out his stylistic intentions many times throughout this work.  To the point, mambo dancing is strongly suggested with “Martinique Mambo”, whereas the samba is at the forefront of “Solamente Samba”.  And one of the truly fun songs on this CD is “Indiscreet Tango”, which is guided by gypsy accordion playing, as well as similarly plunked piano.  While much of this music is beat heavy – you can’t get a whole lot of action out on the dance floor without a solid beat – there are also slower tunes, as well.  After all, folks need to slow dance, too.  “Dreamland” is a good example of a big band down tempo dance song.  With its warm trumpet work, it sounds like something out of a post World War Two dancehall.

In a few places, Zupe has put the word “dance” right into his songs, which is not at all uncommon with dance music.  The CD opens with “Let’s Dance”, which features a laid back vocal.  “Dance with Me”, on the other hand, sports much more insistent singing.  When the words, “dance with me” are sung during its chorus, this is a demand, not a request.  The song is a lusty little Latin number, which brings the music of Ricky Martin to mind.

With the popularity of TV’s Dancing with the Stars, partner dancing has made a roaring comeback.  And that’s a good thing, because, dancing has always played an important role in the human courting process.  With Dance, Zupe has given us an extensive reminder of the great variety that exists in the world of dance.  For those that are already accomplished dancers, this recording will give you plenty of sounds to practice to.  But even if you have two left feet, you’ll still enjoy these tracks because there are no two alike.  Furthermore, the musicianship is topnotch.  An ability to switch from country music to Latin dance is not a skill shared by all players, yet Zupe has gathered together a troupe that can seemingly do it all.

If Zupe were to play the next wedding reception you attended, chances are good he would get an accurate read on the crowd and only play songs that kept the majority of celebrants on the dance floor.  Sadly, dance music – to the ears of many music critics – is sometimes disrespected the way comedies are looked down upon by the Oscars.  But just as being funny is not always as easy as it looks, creating dance music that makes people want to get up immediately and move can be extremely hard work.  So give Zupe a little respect because he makes dance music look easy here.

Review by Dan MacIntosh

The band that comes to mind most when listening to this CD is Toad The Wet Sprocket.  In fact, “Lost Myself” sounds a whole lot like a great lost Glen Phillips (Toad’s vocalist and primary songwriter) track.  Shady Cats’ singer, Grady Crumpler, has one of those voices that just drips with empathy.  Whenever he sings, the listener just has to believe he really cares deeply about everyone he’s ever met.

Although Crumpler is a sensitively consistent vocalist, he is something altogether different as a guitarist.  For example, the solo he takes on “She Kisses Me With Her Eyes” is doppelganger-esquely like Elliot Easton, formerly of The Cars.  The notes are clipped and melodic, just like those solos Easton put together on many of the early The Cars records. Yet “All The Way”, with its distinctly Latin groove, finds Crumpler switching to a speedy Carlos Santana-like style.  There aren’t two more different guitarists in the world than Easton and Santana, yet Crumpler inhabits the personalities of each excellent musician at various points within this CD.

But even when Crumpler is not doing a little added Rich Little work with his guitar, Shady Cats can still often sound like a variety of different bands.  For example, “Take Me”, with its soulful organ work, brings to mind The Rascals.  “I Want Independence” also particularly stands out, as it features much harder rock than the rest of the project.  Crumpler sure seems like a nice guy when singing these songs, but one still gets the sneaky suspicion that all’s not well in paradise.  Both “Lost Myself” and “In This Moment” speak of losing one’s self, for instance.  Also, “Lines” features lyrical lines that state, “Lines/On the road and on the mirror”, which is a not-too-subtle drug reference.

All this sugar coated darkness makes the happy song, “All The Way”, stand out all the more.  It’s a song that puts love in surfer’s terminology.  True love is, indeed, like catching the perfect wave.  To further make the point, this track ends with a few vocal harmonies that are straight out of the Brian Wilson/Beach Boys book.

With the happiness of “All The Way” being a sort of exception to the rule, you have to wonder if it just might be best to avoid the phone’s ring when love is callin’. Isn’t love supposed to be a welcome visitor?  Isn’t everybody just dying to have love over for dinner?  To hear the Shady Cats talk about love, their perspective must give a guy some serious doubts.

All romantic doubts aside, Shady Cats are experts at building the perfect power-pop beast.  Just like the love they describe, theirs is a beautiful beast.  Still, make no mistake about it: pretty as it is, love is still one dangerous animal.

Review by Dan MacIntosh

This album opens with a good old fashioned sea chantey, appropriately titled “Death At Sea”.  A few of its typical lyrical lines go like this: “The captain, crew are lost and dead/way, way, away.” Another track, titled “Assorted Fate”, follows a character forever focused on the day he/she will die.  At one point, this person states: “Then I awoke to the sound of screeching cars,” then later adds, “I knew that a life had passed.” This morbid character meditates on his or her ‘life passing’ furthermore by saying, “We all await assorted fate/Stand in line.”  In other words, the Grim Reaper is driving around in your death vehicle; he’ll be by to pick you up sooner or later.  Make no mistake about it: he’ll find you.

The Haunted House analogy is particularly apt when considering “Emily of the Grace”, which closes this 12-song CD. Emily, you see, is a ghost. She died at the tender age of 13, but continues to reside in an old hotel. “She walks the halls and the stairways,” Brillig reminds us.

Brillig wrote all these songs, except for “Phantom’s Theme”, which was penned by Paul Williams for the film Phantom of the Paradise.  Although the group is dour most of the time, the pun-y song title “Absinthe Makes the Heart Grow Fonder” at least proves they have a sense of humor.  Absinthe, you may know, is a potent and many times deadly illegal, hallucinatory beverage.  (Here it is inserted in place of the word absence).  This group also shows off its stylistic range.  “The Old Captain”, for instance, sways and swaggers like a tavern sing-along, with the sound effects of beer mugs clanking and backing vocals from a unit named The Drunken Bastard Choir.  However, the very next song, “The Frozen Lake”, is gently quiet, with little more than acoustic guitar and lonesome viola backing a male/female vocal.

Musically, The Red Coats is an album that strictly adheres to acoustic instrumentation. There is plenty of banjo and acoustic guitar, as well as viola, autoharp, accordion, and even ukulele in the mix.  However, you won’t hear any screaming electric guitar solos.  Neither will you notice funky bass lines, synthesizer fills or any such pop filigree.  Instead, this act’s musicality is fit to match the bygone, pre-industrialized settings where their dramatic storylines are set.

Not coincidently, this band is from Australia, the same region where the death-warmed-over Nick Cave is from.  Cave differs greatly from Brillig in that Nick uses a lot of Biblical analogies to tell his tales, whereas Brillig is strictly secular.

The Red Coats is a fine collection of songs, although its subject matter can be a little overwhelming at times.  Death is a reality, but listening to a full CD that’s all about life’s end is a downer.  This disc is particularly suited for Goth fans with a taste for folk music. Either that or it is iPod music for Haunted House riders that don’t like the attraction’s piped in soundtrack.

Review by Dan MacIntosh

The outfit also includes Radam Schwartz at the hearty Hammond B3. Alfred Patterson exhibits a notable presence on trombone, particularly during “Mjade 2”, a song he wrote. The way Patterson and Schwartz trade off licks during this particular track is nothing short of thrilling. Otis Brown, Jr., on drums, rounds out the instrumental section of the Bill Phipps Jazz Ensemble.

Ah, but there’s more than just instrumental music going on here. In a few places, Phipps’ sound is accented by the lovely singing of Maura Tier. In each case, Tier takes on a tried ‘n true tune. She opens the disc by singing “Summertime”, that great old George Gershwin ode to the hot weather months. Later, she rollicks her way through Louis Jordan’s hip-ly asked question, “Is You Is Or Is You Ain’t My Baby”. Somehow, this title has always sounded like something Yogi Berra might propose. But in Tier’s hands, it swings gently, and with pleasure.

There’s also one more singer here; Lady Laranah Phipps. She joins the party for the tropical “Kitts Kalypso”. Although it’s only 3:57 long, it’s nevertheless a wacky little break from this otherwise American jazz-centric project. And while Otis Brown, Jr. keeps the groove going at an unhurried island pace, Bill Phipps still finds more than enough space to stretch out with fine solo saxophone work. The drummer even gets a little love with his own solo toward the track’s end.

Phipps composed the majority of these tracks. With the exception of Tier’s vocal selections, as well as Patterson’s two contributions and one traditional tune (“Moscow Mile”), Phipps was the set’s main composer. There are also many varying lengths to these songs. For instance, the act’s take on “Summertime” is over and done in 3:21, whereas “The Point Beyond”, which closes out the disc, stretches out to 10:54.

Much of the time, there is fast-paced musical interplay among these musicians. However, “Obama’s Delight”, more than likely an ode to our first black president, takes it nice and easy as a warm ballad. On it, Phipps can be heard blowing thoughtful musical lines over Schwartz’s soothing, but insistent, organ bed. It’s hard to think of such a beautiful piece of music as political. Instead, it simply comes off as an instrumental tribute to the man and his accomplishments, no matter his political party or policies.

At the risk of offending Kenny G fans, which is really no risk at all, the music Phipps makes is real jazz. People can argue about what brand of jazz is best until the cows come home, but we can all be objective about the differences between creative jazz, and mere instrumental pop. For instance, acts that play the same melody over and over again atop a funk bass/drum groove are performing a pop tune-sans-singer, and not jazz. Granted, much of that repetitious music is pleasing to the ear, but it’s still not jazz. On the other hand, you don’t have to listen too long to Phipps And Friends to notice how hard these players are working at finding new wrinkles in older tunes, such as this disc’s Gershwin inclusion, and spontaneity among its many newer creations. While it may not be the most complete definition of jazz, the search for pleasantly unexpected notes and rhythms is a large part of jazz’s appeal. Without a doubt, the Bill Phipps Jazz Ensemble pushes hard at the exploratory boundaries with this latest effort.

Review by Dan MacIntosh

Two tracks deal with the deaths of important, inspirational figures. One of these folks was influential at a distance, the other one much, much closer to home. Over a sadly swaying beat, along with weepy, backing vocal ‘oohs,’ Syre says a farewell to this iconic torch singer that she (Cline) will never hear. “So I’m calling out to Patsy Cline, wish you were around,” she reaches back to her idol. Syre describes two different Patsy Clines: one was the singer of familiar songs during Syre’s youth, the other is now a wise veteran and colleague. When Syre admits, “I’m so much older now and I understand the pain,” this line is sung by someone who – much like Cline – knows a bit about living with hurt. Syre recognizes that Cline’s work suggested the depth of a singer/songwriter, even though she didn’t write her own songs and came along long before the singer/songwriter genre came into vogue. However, Syre still recognizes Cline as a fellow troubadour, and rightfully so.

With “Before You Go”, Syre sings a song to her dying father. Its lyric is something only a daughter could honestly express. “You’ve held me since I was born/Now I hold you until you’re gone.” Her dad was also a fellow musician, as his painted portrait where he’s seen picking an acoustic guitar, accompanies the lyric in the CD booklet. It’s one thing to sing an ode to Patsy Cline; it’s quite another thing to send your only father into the great beyond with song. “I’ve cried and prayed,” she admits at one point, “just let me get through this song.” Saying goodbye to one’s parents is the hardest thing a son or daughter will ever have to do, and nothing is easy about performing “Before You Go” for Syre.

The Journey is a tough work to easily categorize stylistically. While “Isn’t It A Shame?” and “Beautiful Melancholy” bounce along like the a few of the lighter, more country moments of Bob Dylan’s Blood on the Tracks, something like “Guilt” is different altogether with its layered backing music, including gypsy fiddle. Without a doubt, Dylan casts a big shadow over Syre’s art. In fact, “Poet Man” is another musical tribute, this time praising the crazy and beautiful poetry of Bob Dylan. But no matter the musical bed, Syre has a distinctively penetrating voice. In fact, the opening song, “Beautiful Melancholy”, sums up her natural instrument nicely. Everything she sings comes out a little melancholy, as if sadness just cannot hide its face whenever she digs into any song.

Although Syre’s inner sadness is inescapable, she is by no means an entirely sad person. For instance, “Angels” is a beautiful love song that longs for a chance to thank the angels for her loving man. With a sparse arrangement, which once again puts fiddle to good use, Syre gives her thanks over a slow and thoughtful track where honky-tonk piano also plays a large role. Toward the end of the song, however, Syre takes a few liberties with her human-to-angel face time by requesting a little more peace on Earth. “If I could talk to angels, I’d let them know/That the world needs more love we need it so.”

Syre may be on a solitary ride, equipped with a strong and honest set of original songs, but if you decide to hitchhike a ride with the singer/songwriter, chances are good your ride may not feel quite so lonely. This is because she’s a friend who understands.

Review by Dan MacIntosh