Patrick Crowson - Self-titled Review
by Patrick Muldowney
Patrick Crowson is a western movie. It looks like it hasn't rained since the Eisenhower was in office, the town is blanketed in dust, and a tumbleweed slowly travels down an empty road. As the two cowboys exit the saloon with spurs spinning as slowly and methodically as rims cruisin' a beachside boulevard on a summer night, all the viewers anticipate the paces, the draw, and a winner. As expected, the director, who idolizes John Ford, has an extra passed out beside the swinging doors. The only character oblivious to the tension everyone else anticipates. If the director ever made this extra more than a decoration, and delved into his story, Patrick Crowson might be unveiled. This self-titled album has an aura of pain that is peaceful, in its death-like state.
Patrick Crowson, supported musically by Meanwhiles, occupies a corner on Downtrodden Drive that he does not abandon the entire album. His lyrics of abandonment, alcoholism, and antisocial behavior, matched with a slow acoustic presence, make for ballads that range from beauty to boredom, more consistently occupying the latter half. "Homesick", "Little Rose", and "Saints", show that Crowson is capable of claiming ancestry to legendary roadside writers like Townes Van Zandt and Woody Guthrie, although he is not quite ready to provide a compelling voice to the silent.
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Patrick Crowson - Self-titled
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