Samuel Locke Ward And The Boohoos / Mumford's - split 7-inch w/ insert
[Check out a bunch of Samuel Locke Ward And The Boohoos stuff HERE]
One thing I should mention before going on any longer is how drop-dead-because-I-can’t-take-it-any-longer GORgeous Texas nights are. It’s warm yet a bit cool, and it’s so quiet and gentle in Corpus Christi I can hear myself shuffle when I smoke a cigarette on the ol’ porch (I just quit actually).
The sky is never black at night. Often, it’s a strange cloud-y color, metallic perhaps, like white being swallowed by light gray. I swear, it doesn’t even get DARK here, it just gets … shaded. Florida nights were nice, but so far, out of all the places I’ve lived (California-Washington-Idaho-Colorado-Florida-New York-BOOM!!), Texas takes the achy-break-y cake when it comes to nightfall; I sure do cotton to it.
Strangely, the nicer it is out side, the grimier music I tend to spin. Not grime-y in the Dizzee Rascal sense; in the lo-fi sense, of course …
Mumford’s‘ and Samuel Locke Ward And The Boohoos‘ split 7-incher ain’t an ace knob-job, but it sounds decent enough and gets the job done if you’re in a folk/punk pinch, though, as I’ll explain, I enjoyed the random violence of Ward and his Boohoos a bit more than the lyrically solic acoustic bits of Mumford’s.
Ward’s vocals are belted out in a manner befitting a scream, but there’s actually a fair amount of melody here. No screaming, no yelling, no SHRIEKing, yet they’re not exactly singing opera, either. If Mr. Ward and his bros can duplicate this night-in, night-out, it could spell the soiling of many-a venue/club/house/trailer.
They out of tune? Yeah, they’s outta tune, in the RIGHT way. As Lou Reed always knew, it’s not how close you can come to hitting the notes, but how far AWAY you can get from hitting the notes. You gotta flip it and bounce it, mang, and Samuel Locke Ward And The Boohoos definitely doodily-do. They also rock moderate-to-hard and toss in harmonies I wouldn’t kick out of bed in the morning (unless Real Time With Bill Maher‘s awaiting on Tivo; that’s GUMSHOE time) with a steal-toe’d boot.
One thought: Why not rock all the way? The heavier parts ‘re jammin’, but when the guitars go clean the whole situation suffers immensely. Please GOD give me what I want! I’ll … I’ll do whatever you want …
Mumford’s, I’ll just come out and say it, is not quite my cup o’ noodle/soup/Eucalyptus … As I mentioned above I adore the lyrics and hope Mumford Man writes a book or two, let’s just leave it at that.
I’m pretty picky about folkitty-folk-folk music. I like to get mother-FOLKed like anyone else, and there’s a scrumptious section where trumpets and wordless vocalizing form a cocoon I could sleep in for the next century at LEAST, but I’ve heard more unappealing entries in the genre than I can even conceive. Pwrfl Power and Cody Votolato are only the beginning, and I can say for sure Mumford’s is much easier a pill to swallow than a lot of what I’ve heard float by like pieces of nameless trash.
Check out a section of the lyrics:
When you live the way that I live
You always, always, always, always, always wear gloves
Because the second you take them off
They’ll just get replaced by a pair of police handcuffs.
So you never leave any trace of your fingers behind
And all that’s left at the scene of the crime
Is the end of the plans in your mind
And you’re always two states away by that time.
See what I mean? Good wordins, my man!
