Chris Jones album review
Welcome to the musings of Chris Jones. Unpeeled Magazine adores him and yes, he is talented. But the guitar sounds as if it is being murdered and the aggression in the majority of the tracks on this recording is somewhat distracting from both the lyrics and the sentiment. 'Up the fuzz, up the buzz' has a refreshing mellow tint to the song and one has to admire Jones's unique take on life expressed through music. This is the 21st Century’s Bob Dylan. That said, it will take some considerable time for the average listener amongst us to get used to the bleak, Moody Blues ambience created by the slow, scorched guitar and the jabbing, stabbing pains of the vocals. 'Let's Get Busy' irritates and grates as a song and there's a fine line between the beauty in the simplicity of this recording and the harsh, ugly modernity which the whole tone of the record evokes. There's potential here. But so much of the music jars with the lyrics and one gets the impression that, at times, the thought of being clever with music distracts from the intent of producing a tightly put together ode to existence.
Basically, you'll be divided other whether Jones is a prophet or merely pretentious. The vibrating strum of the guitar is a selling point for this record and the confidence of the performer is enough to allow the instruments to take their place on stage and push the song along with an intensity that mere lyrics alone would fail to muster. Repetition can be the Mafia kiss of death to musician and music alike and in lingering on individual words; Jones does begin to irritate the listener to the extent that they might fall out of love with the recording. The William Blake escapist comment proves a wonderful social commentary but this album runs the risk of appearing bland, lifeless and- quite frankly- dull. The pundits have already spoken and one doubts a tepid response to a tepid album will dampen the spirits of such a performer. When you are loved by all, what comfort does one dissenting voice offer? Chris Jones is the talk of the town and the glum rock era will accept the new music with open arms, letting the wave of despair crash over them as they listen to the instruments dragging across the floor. A poison pen of an album.