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“The Hard Way” (Hear Music/Go Records) is James Hunter’s follow-up to 2006’s Grammy nominated, “People Gonna Talk,” an album that brought him some overdue recognition which he’s described as an “overnight success that’s taken twenty years.”
The new release continues, and amplifies, his refreshing reinvigorations of vintage ’50s-’60s soul and R & B. Sam Cooke is an influence here, but so are Van Morrison and Ray Charles.
The songs, all his own original compositions, are steeped in the conventions of the period, using short very ‘50s-like three-minute song structures to articulate the pleasures and perils of romantic entanglements. Trouble is never too hard to find; advice is often hard to swallow; you’ve got to take a shot, play the cards you’ve got; don’t do him any favors he can’t return; how your sweet look can root him to the spot, and he can’t believe he’s still in love with you.
His guitar playing swings from one song to the next; double sax horn charts punch things up a bit and something like “Carina” is a ska-inflected gem. Hunter clearly loves what he’s doing and you can hear that infectious enthusiasm.
John Hiatt has been around for a while; his career covers more than 35 years and twenty albums. His most recent release, “Same Old Man” (New West), gives more than ample proof that he’s still vibrantly with us.
The songs here are more reflective than those on earlier albums, an expansion of his ongoing concerns from the viewpoint of late middle age, but drawing on his repertoire such as his classic song from a few years back, “Have a Little Faith In Me.”
His grainy drawl is still instantly recognizable as he assays lessons learned; his wit is still there, but now leavened by the understanding that aging brings.
The good ole days weren’t so good, but they led him here. Elsewhere, Chinese takeout becomes the basis for the consideration of our times together; he watches her drive away in a cherry-red corvette the same color as her lips; and notes that after all his earlier shenanigans, he’s lucky to have found, if not forgiveness, than at least recognition.
Yep, he’s still the same old man, modifying the assessments that living brings, with more than a little aplomb and just-right folk rock backing in these little vignettes.
The new release continues, and amplifies, his refreshing reinvigorations of vintage ’50s-’60s soul and R & B. Sam Cooke is an influence here, but so are Van Morrison and Ray Charles.
The songs, all his own original compositions, are steeped in the conventions of the period, using short very ‘50s-like three-minute song structures to articulate the pleasures and perils of romantic entanglements. Trouble is never too hard to find; advice is often hard to swallow; you’ve got to take a shot, play the cards you’ve got; don’t do him any favors he can’t return; how your sweet look can root him to the spot, and he can’t believe he’s still in love with you.
His guitar playing swings from one song to the next; double sax horn charts punch things up a bit and something like “Carina” is a ska-inflected gem. Hunter clearly loves what he’s doing and you can hear that infectious enthusiasm.
John Hiatt has been around for a while; his career covers more than 35 years and twenty albums. His most recent release, “Same Old Man” (New West), gives more than ample proof that he’s still vibrantly with us.
The songs here are more reflective than those on earlier albums, an expansion of his ongoing concerns from the viewpoint of late middle age, but drawing on his repertoire such as his classic song from a few years back, “Have a Little Faith In Me.”
His grainy drawl is still instantly recognizable as he assays lessons learned; his wit is still there, but now leavened by the understanding that aging brings.
The good ole days weren’t so good, but they led him here. Elsewhere, Chinese takeout becomes the basis for the consideration of our times together; he watches her drive away in a cherry-red corvette the same color as her lips; and notes that after all his earlier shenanigans, he’s lucky to have found, if not forgiveness, than at least recognition.
Yep, he’s still the same old man, modifying the assessments that living brings, with more than a little aplomb and just-right folk rock backing in these little vignettes.
