PETER MULVEY
Letters from a Flying Machine
Signature Sounds 2074
Give Peter Mulvey major eco props—for his fall tour he’s riding his bicycle from his home in Milwaukee to the East Coast. And give him some creative props as well; in an age in which single-song downloads rule, Mulvey’s new CD is a theme album—an integrated song/spoken word narrative. Mulvey also rubs against the cultural grain in that he thumbs his nose at the snarky, self-absorbed cynicism of modern society. The central concept is that of Mulvey playing Socratic sage to his young niece. Letters to her from Mulvey’s road travel frame songs that explore adult themes that kids wonder about: fear, technology, death, the meaning of life, humankind’s place in the cosmos, beauty…. But lest you think that Mulvey has gone mushy-headed, give a listen to “Vlad the Astrophysicist” and you’ll see that he’s still more off-kilter than centered. If you need more proof, "Dynamite Bill" reminds us that the Mulvey family tree has some strange fuits hanging from the branches. All of the music is unpacked by Mulvey’s trademark gravely vocals and folk blues licks that land somewhere between Chris Smither and Greg Brown. This album may not be to everyone’s taste, but it’s thoughtful, gentle, and wise.
Letters from a Flying Machine
Signature Sounds 2074
Give Peter Mulvey major eco props—for his fall tour he’s riding his bicycle from his home in Milwaukee to the East Coast. And give him some creative props as well; in an age in which single-song downloads rule, Mulvey’s new CD is a theme album—an integrated song/spoken word narrative. Mulvey also rubs against the cultural grain in that he thumbs his nose at the snarky, self-absorbed cynicism of modern society. The central concept is that of Mulvey playing Socratic sage to his young niece. Letters to her from Mulvey’s road travel frame songs that explore adult themes that kids wonder about: fear, technology, death, the meaning of life, humankind’s place in the cosmos, beauty…. But lest you think that Mulvey has gone mushy-headed, give a listen to “Vlad the Astrophysicist” and you’ll see that he’s still more off-kilter than centered. If you need more proof, "Dynamite Bill" reminds us that the Mulvey family tree has some strange fuits hanging from the branches. All of the music is unpacked by Mulvey’s trademark gravely vocals and folk blues licks that land somewhere between Chris Smither and Greg Brown. This album may not be to everyone’s taste, but it’s thoughtful, gentle, and wise.
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