Damn that voice, that twangy mouthful. These're some damn fine little songs, full of sunlight and soul, all grass and timeless nostalgia, soothing and energetic both. But Newman's voice, 45 years ago (!) as now, is such a boorish presence, stomping all over everything on its way to the front of the stage, rasping and moaning and drawling cud-soaked hairpins around the vowels, flicking spittle in the good peoples' lemonades. It will not be ignored.
Would I like this better if I'd never heard any of Newman's more recent, comically rambling, cloyingly folksy, mealy-mouthed chestnuts? Probably a little. Can't kick the association. But it speaks for itself regardless - less'd have been more 3/5
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