12 Songs, 50 Minutes

EDITORS’ NOTES

As a member of southern California’s Green on Red in the 1980s and now as a singer-songwriter with an ever-expanding solo career, Chuck Prophet continues to mine and refine the subtle terrain of post-Dylan, alt.country songwriting. His voice has always delivered the wry, amused but doomed scenario that goes along with the details (“Happy Ending”). His guitar tones are dirty and bluesy, his tempos stick to a comforting lope, and he can’t hide his verbose, beatnik tendencies, even with a premature fade (“Downtime”). Prophet’s the guy at the end of the bar who isn’t likely to get off his seat for anyone, but draw yourself closer and the tall tales twinkle. “Freckle Song” begins things with a one-chord stompfest, while “I Can Feel Your Heartbeat” breaks out into full-color pop. “Naked Ray” offers a ballad with a few scattershot memories, while “A Woman’s Voice” admits, “a woman’s voice can drug you, like an AM radio, like a motorcycle preacher, like a Sunday far from home.” It’s these simple, odd observations that suddenly jut out and make you take notice.

EDITORS’ NOTES

As a member of southern California’s Green on Red in the 1980s and now as a singer-songwriter with an ever-expanding solo career, Chuck Prophet continues to mine and refine the subtle terrain of post-Dylan, alt.country songwriting. His voice has always delivered the wry, amused but doomed scenario that goes along with the details (“Happy Ending”). His guitar tones are dirty and bluesy, his tempos stick to a comforting lope, and he can’t hide his verbose, beatnik tendencies, even with a premature fade (“Downtime”). Prophet’s the guy at the end of the bar who isn’t likely to get off his seat for anyone, but draw yourself closer and the tall tales twinkle. “Freckle Song” begins things with a one-chord stompfest, while “I Can Feel Your Heartbeat” breaks out into full-color pop. “Naked Ray” offers a ballad with a few scattershot memories, while “A Woman’s Voice” admits, “a woman’s voice can drug you, like an AM radio, like a motorcycle preacher, like a Sunday far from home.” It’s these simple, odd observations that suddenly jut out and make you take notice.

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