Them Dirty Roads
Artist: Adam Hill
Independent  
(Short Bit)
 
This is lo-fi in the Sufjan Stevens / Jonathan Rundman manner, but performed in a punk bluegrass fashion: one hand it’s the sort of thing you could have heard 100 years ago in some log cabin, but it’s done with a completely contemporary attitude.
 
Subject matter ranges from existential pondering (the Johnny cash-like “High Road”) to discussing diet. While I am not inspired by a mournful cello and tune that delivers “We both had the shits / Maybe it was the chocolate / You don’t drink the coffee,” there are enjoyable songs here. “The River Where She Sleeps” is a light, quirky story of Mary, where the music and words suit each other like lemon and meringue. These lines catch its style: “She got wheels on her smiles / She can coast along for miles.” If there was more of this on the album – not because it’s light, but because it’s creative, it works, and it gives counterpoint to the dreary, forgettable filler – then there would be more tocks on offer.
 
Despite some iffy pitching and depressing vocal style, Hill’s musical abilities shine through, as does his inventiveness, knowledge and a deft way with words. He begins with a “Prelude” arranged for trumpet, bass, and radio that is Bach’s second cello suite in disguise, although the radio does nothing for it. There are three similar breaks, which major on free-form noodling, but add little other than space.
 
This is very much a niche release. With few points of contact and little memorable after the disc has played, it’s not one that I will be returning to.
 
Derek Walker