Saturday, March 19, 2005

The HANK RAY album "Ballads From The Badlands Of Hearts" (Rhythm Bomb) sees the Rayman revisit obscure Hank Williams tracts and turn them into sparse, spare and spacious readings from somewhere on death row. Not as miserable though as that might sound and best played when the sun goes down. "Ballads" is a cinematic trawl that flows like a bloodline. Coagulation courtesy of David Lynch sitting in on a Johnny Cash session via a ouija board.

That said, it's no walk in the park. The roots of murder balladry and a decidedly black (as in death not race - and don't start with the 2000 smartass) demeanor stalk the album like the reaper his or herself and somehow react to make listening to it somewhat life-affirming. Great care has been taken to let the darkness breath some hope into the inherent hopelessness.

No comments: