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LAMONT, BRUCE-2


BRUCE LAMONT 

"Broken Limbs Excite No Pity"

By Lord Randall

BRUCE LAMONT could, without much of a stretch, be referred to as a renaissance man when it comes to outsider music. And before you accuse me of blowing smoke up his virtual keister, I absolutely cannot stand YAKUZA. To be fair, though, this could also have less to do with his work within the avant-jazz/metal/world music outfit and my general dislike for jazz that isn’t of the smoke-and-whiskey-filled speakeasy sort. Otherwise, though, his work is woven into a tapestry of industro-doom [CORRECTIONS HOUSE], tribal thud/thunder [MINSK] and the ambient/metallic drone of WREKMEISTER HARMONIES. So, with his second solo album, what’s to come?

 For those of us who enjoyed Feral Songs For Epic Decline, Lamont’s newest is neither a return to form, nor a sharp departure ala MILES DAVIS’ seminal Bitch’s Brew. The title track begins, Lamont’s beloved saxophone sounding for all the world like the blowing of the shofar, then almost gliding into a gentle, deceptively serene pool over which the words “I remember nothing from that day” roll coal black shadows, reminding the listener that, even within the midst of beauty, all is rarely well. ‘McLean’ pairs lush acoustics with primitive vocal intonations, while ‘Goodbye Electric Sunday’ conjures something akin the way a TOM WAITS/LEE HAZLEWOOD collaboration might’ve sounded. Ending with ‘Moonlight And The Sea’ the Broken Limbs Excite No Pity drifts to a close amid ethereal-yet-earthy guitars, awash in melody and plaintive song.

Fans of JIM WHITE, JONNY DOWD and more recent JOHN PRINE would appreciate BRUCE LAMONT’s world-weary explorations/lamentations. Which is disappointing, because there’s a ready-made audience who would find something worthwhile here…and they’ll probably never hear it. Now, that’s just pitiful.