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Cactus Lee ist texanische Musik in ihrem Kern, eine Mischung aus Austin-Nachtclub-Vibes und staubiger Dancefloor-Energie. Cactus Lee ist ein Projekt des Austiner Songwriters Kevin Dehan und spiegelt eine tiefe Liebe zu texanischen Country-Songwritern wider, die mit dem kühnen Geist von Outlaw- und Outsider-Einflüssen verwoben ist. Mit einem Sound, der gleichzeitig kindlich, verträumt und scharfsinnig ist und an Ikonen wie John Prine und Tom T. Hall erinnert, hat sich Cactus Lee seit seiner Gründung 2019 eine unverwechselbare Nische in der Musikwelt geschaffen. Über sechs Alben, darunter zwei Veröffentlichungen im Jahr 2023, ein Live-Album und mehrere EPs, waren Dehans Songwriting und seine auf vier Spuren selbst aufgenommenen Bemühungen die Grundlage für ein sich ständig weiterentwickelndes Projekt. Auf dem neuen, selbstbetitelten Album Cactus Lee beschäftigen sich die Songs mit Themen wie Liebe, Verlust, Familie und Selbstfindung und bieten flüchtige Momentaufnahmen von Charakteren und Momenten, die von einem einladenden texanischen Charme durchdrungen sind. Das Eröffnungsstück "Rabbit" stellt einen verliebten, aber schwer fassbaren Protagonisten vor, der durch Bukka Allens Akkordeon und Adam Amrams ansteckenden Rhythmus zum Leben erweckt wird. "Sister" ist ein zartes Versprechen auf bessere Zeiten und gemeinsame Momente, perfekt für offene Straßen und luftige Tage. Roll Maggie" mit seinem Zusammenspiel von Saxophon und Steel-Gitarre erforscht das Glücksspiel der Liebe als ein aufregendes Glücksspiel. "Got A Heart Like Rainwater Blues" zelebriert die unnachgiebigen Bande einer Familie auf der Flucht, durchdrungen von einer bluesigen Unverwüstlichkeit. "Lorelei" zeichnet das rätselhafte Porträt einer fesselnden Figur, untermalt von Doo-Wop-Harmonien. "The Fiddler" fängt die hypnotische Magie einer Tanzfläche ein, untermalt von einem eindringlichen Bratschensolo. "Twenty Dollars", das das Album abschließt, ist eine zutiefst persönliche Ode an Dehans Tochter Jolene. Das selbstbetitelte Album von Cactus Lee unterstreicht die Fähigkeit von Kevin Dehan, die Essenz des texanischen Twang in Songs zu destillieren, die weit über den Lone Star State hinaus Anklang finden, und zwar durch eindrucksvolle Texte und eine durchdachte Instrumentierung.

Marking the twentieth/twenty-first anniversaries of ‘Amnesiac’ and ‘Kid A’ respectively, Radiohead announce a deluxe triple-album of both records plus a brand new bonus disc titled ‘Kid Amnesiae’. It features two previously unreleased tracks - ‘If You Say The Word’ and ‘Follow Me Around’ - plus alternate versions of album tracks and B-sides from the era. An absolute essential for Radiohead fans!

First impressions matter. Especially on a debut album. Time and attention-strapped listeners size up an artist within a song or two, then move on or delve in further. Fortunately, it only takes Margo Price about twenty-eight seconds to convince you that you’re hearing the arrival of a singular new talent. “Hands of Time,” the opener on Midwest Farmer’s Daughter, is an invitation, a mission statement and a starkly poetic summary of the 32-year old singer’s life, all in one knockout, self-penned punch. Easing in over a groove of sidestick, bass and atmospheric guitar, Price sings, “When I rolled out of town on the unpaved road, I was fifty-seven dollars from bein’ broke . . .” It has the feel of the first line of a great novel or opening scene in a classic film. There’s an expectancy, a brewing excitement. And as the song builds, strings rising around her, Price recalls hardships and heartaches – the loss of her family’s farm, the death of her child, problems with men and the bottle. There is no self-pity or over-emoting. Her voice has that alluring mix of vulnerability and resilience that was once the province of Loretta and Dolly. It is a tour-de-force performance that is vivid, deeply moving and all true. From the honky tonk comeuppance of “About To Find Out,” to the rockabilly-charged “This Town Gets Around” to the weekend twang of “Hurtin’ (On The Bottle)”, Price adds fresh twists to classic Nashville country, with a sound that could’ve made hits in any decade. Meanwhile, the hard-hitting blues grooves of “Four Years of Chances” and “Tennessee Song” push the boundaries further west to Memphis (the album was recorded at the legendary Sun Studio). • Hometown: Nashville • Recorded at Sun Studios

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OFFICIAL RE-ISSUE, DONE IN COOPERATION WITH THE FAMILY OF BOBBY COLE !!!

If you lived in New York during the 1950s through the 1990s and liked jazz, you knew about Bobby Cole. He played piano, sang, composed, arranged and, in 1967, released an album of original compositions titled "A Point of View" (Concentric Records). He had fans but avoided becoming mainstream. He stayed contemporary without becoming current. Jazz, folk, rock, modern dance scores…he wrote and performed them all. He smoked too much, drugged too much, drank too much. He was also cerebral, curious, a prodigious reader of poetry, philosophy, theology, and an uncommonly intelligent and literate lyricist.

On a December night in 1996, he had a heart attack while walking to work. An ambulance brought him to New York Hospital where, a few hours later, he died. Bobby Cole performed throughout Manhattan for forty years, but he spent most of the 1960s headlining at Jilly's, the midtown bistro owned by Frank Sinatra and his friend Jilly Rizzo. Sinatra called Bobby "my favorite saloon singer."

Bobby Cole caught the attention of Judy Garland, who visited Jilly's one night in 1964. She was hosting a weekly television show, and in the midst of a feud with her special materials arranger, Mel Torme. Three weeks later, Mel was out, and Bobby was in. He performed on Judy's show with his Trio. Bobby was scarcely 30 years old and it was his first time on television, but he was unruffled, sophisticated, and so damn cool. After Judy's show ended, Bobby occasionally arranged and conducted for her until she died.

Today, Jilly's is called the Russian Samovar and the piano is in the same spot. My husband and I ate there a few years ago. As we enjoyed our meal, I talked about Jilly's in the Sinatra era. Jilly had an apartment on the upper floor. I pointed up to the apartment and the balcony, where Jilly and Frank would sometimes drop water-balloons on unsuspecting pedestrians below. Another story described Jilly's as "tough, and you had to be tough to work there. Bobby Cole was tough. Frank and Jilly used to throw firecrackers at him to see if they could rattle him, but nothing rattled Bobby Cole. He ignored them and kept on playing." In the 1980s, Bobby headlined at a club called the Café Versailles. His daughter sometimes visited with her friends. She recalled that when she and her father would exit the club after work, a panhandler would be waiting for him. Bobby, who fought his own losing battle with the bottle, would slip the guy twenty dollars and wryly admonish him, "Be sure not to spend it on food." The night my husband and I visited the Russian Samovar there was a guy playing piano there, very young, and trying hard. I talked to him a little bit between his numbers about Bobby and the history of Jilly's and he was sweet, but I could tell he didn't care. I felt like one of those old people who bore young people to death with stories about things that happened before they were born – which, let's face it, is what I was. Nonetheless, when we were ready to leave, I put twenty dollars in his tip jar and said, "This is with compliments from Bobby Cole." After we left my husband said I should have added, "Be sure not to spend it on food."

Marie Hegeman (December 2021)