At first, Brody's performance sounds like a throwback to the hushed, longed for, singer/songwriter days of lore. You can imagine Brody composing his songs in his room, backstage, or in the interminable spaces between studio takes, getting the music, the words just right before committing them to the ages. Lush and lyrical, with enough rolling piano, flute, violin and trumpet for emotional shading, you'd never suspect that nagging little something in the back of your brain to become a big nagging something in the front of it. But it does.
For as good as certain songs are [The Man Who Says You Can't, Folk Song (When You're High, You're High), The Ballad of Mildred Loving] little on this self titled debut compels you forward to the next song. Very often I found myself easily distracted, hoping that the next track would cement my attention, and with seventeen tracks, that's a lot of time hoping.
But I'm not ready to toss Brody back into the big sea of singer/songwriters out there waiting to get heard. Despite the evidence presented, I suspect these songs and Brody's heartened playing of them to be stronger and more emotive in a live setting. Whenever he gets around to releasing his next CD, I'd like to be first in line to hear it.
Edited by: David N. Pyles
Copyright 2007, Peterborough Folk Music Society.
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