High Strung
A large part of what makes Matt Rae's music so enjoyable to listen to is the variety of elements that he brings to the table: fiery technical skill, a gift for catchy melodic lines, a showman's ability to slip effortlessly into different musical styles and make them his own, and, not least, a cheery, contagious sense of humor. What makes High Strung, Matt's third album of recordings, such remarkable, attention-grabbing listening is the seamless combination of all these elements into a complete whole; it stands on its own not as a showcase for this or that side of a guitarist's talents but rather as a synthesis of everything—everything that makes Matt Rae the musician he is.
There have been moments in the past when it seemed as though Matt was afraid to treat his compositions too roughly for fear that they might break; on High Strung, however, the Telecaster is not so much showcased as unleashed, playing catch-me-if-you-can with the listener and nailing every right-angle turn and dogleg. Even playful songs like "Happy Ending" and "Goose Pickin'" are salted down with blistering guitar work, and it creates something new entirely, something so very much like Matt himself, at once warmly congenial and fiercely dedicated.
As on Twang! and Tele-pathic, Matt leads off High Strung with a killer, in this case the thoroughly rambunctious "Bad Truck." If a Confederate zombie swamp monster jumped a motorcycle over twelve burning school buses, it might sound something like this. Another spectacular standout is "Small Brown Dog," a song with a Buddy Holly bounce mixed with high-speed countrified jazz. Further rockabilly is perpetrated with criminal intent on "Peanut Butter and Tele" and "Weedwhacker"; it is believed that a number of good old boys suffered acute spinal strains during its execution, and hillbilly lawsuits may be pending.
Not all of the songs are quite so easy to pigeonhole, however, "After Hours" gives us a taste of spooky blues with a hint of spandex, while "Lizzie Strut" is an amalgamation of bar band and funk, all wrapped in one of Matt's typically catchy melodies. In fact, throughout the record Matt slips into musical styles as a man might try on hats to mug in a mirror—a jazzman's beret, a bluesman's bowler, an oversized cowboy hat, a neon-yellow leopard-skin headband—and what is so refreshing is that there is not a trace of irony, just a simple joy of sound.
Fans of the soulful tracks from Matt's previous albums such as "Almost Home," and "Rolling Fog" are sure to enjoy "I Only Have Eyes for You" and "Tube Job," though the latter song is not so dreamy that Matt couldn't sneak in some hot guitar work—just in case we'd forgotten what a kick-ass musician he is.
All in all, High Strung is a great CD, and if there's any justice it will be heard by more than just hardcore guitarophiles and the devoted few who pack into the local watering holes to be blown away by Connecticut's loudest yet best-kept secret.
There have been moments in the past when it seemed as though Matt was afraid to treat his compositions too roughly for fear that they might break; on High Strung, however, the Telecaster is not so much showcased as unleashed, playing catch-me-if-you-can with the listener and nailing every right-angle turn and dogleg. Even playful songs like "Happy Ending" and "Goose Pickin'" are salted down with blistering guitar work, and it creates something new entirely, something so very much like Matt himself, at once warmly congenial and fiercely dedicated.
As on Twang! and Tele-pathic, Matt leads off High Strung with a killer, in this case the thoroughly rambunctious "Bad Truck." If a Confederate zombie swamp monster jumped a motorcycle over twelve burning school buses, it might sound something like this. Another spectacular standout is "Small Brown Dog," a song with a Buddy Holly bounce mixed with high-speed countrified jazz. Further rockabilly is perpetrated with criminal intent on "Peanut Butter and Tele" and "Weedwhacker"; it is believed that a number of good old boys suffered acute spinal strains during its execution, and hillbilly lawsuits may be pending.
Not all of the songs are quite so easy to pigeonhole, however, "After Hours" gives us a taste of spooky blues with a hint of spandex, while "Lizzie Strut" is an amalgamation of bar band and funk, all wrapped in one of Matt's typically catchy melodies. In fact, throughout the record Matt slips into musical styles as a man might try on hats to mug in a mirror—a jazzman's beret, a bluesman's bowler, an oversized cowboy hat, a neon-yellow leopard-skin headband—and what is so refreshing is that there is not a trace of irony, just a simple joy of sound.
Fans of the soulful tracks from Matt's previous albums such as "Almost Home," and "Rolling Fog" are sure to enjoy "I Only Have Eyes for You" and "Tube Job," though the latter song is not so dreamy that Matt couldn't sneak in some hot guitar work—just in case we'd forgotten what a kick-ass musician he is.
All in all, High Strung is a great CD, and if there's any justice it will be heard by more than just hardcore guitarophiles and the devoted few who pack into the local watering holes to be blown away by Connecticut's loudest yet best-kept secret.
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