Everything about this disc is, well, honest. Whether raucous, snarky, rave-up, or just happily boogy be-boppin' from track to track, what you hear is exactly what the Brothers Comatose are, set into plastic and aluminum with refreshing audio verity as, to quote one Crawdaddy reviewer after seeing their show, "an antidote to shoe polish" and all the electronic tweakery that sanitizes so many efforts nowadays.
Ben and Alex Morrison really are birth brothers and have been musicians since the post-embryo days. It took a while to find the right complements to their work, but, as of the lastmost inclusion of classically trained Phil Brezina, who knows how to shuck Paganini at a moment's notice, everything settled into the right configuration and began bringing San Francisco a mean mess of good-time roots music. In cuts like the staccato The Ballad of Tommy Decker (Prince of Haight), a high energy platform is erected from which rapid-fire vocals toll out a yarn of the gent in question, a tough hombre, with Brezina's violin speeding along a mile a minute. Some songs are folky, heavy with group vocals, some countrified laybacks, and others uprorarious.
Except for a cut by Norman Blake, a co-written track, and a very cool, very wheatfield, very git-down version of the Stones' Dead Flowers, the music is all of The Bros. creation. I've been using Ritchie Kotzen's post-hard-rock work as a benchmark for material of this ilk, and the comparative applies to the Comatose gang as well, as informed by antecedents as any, and you can include Doc Watson as readily as the Allman Bros.
Edited by: David N. Pyles
Copyright 2010, Peterborough Folk Music Society.
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