Scroll down for reviews of the latest from Candy Butchers and Wes Cunningham

Sean Altman
alt.mania

(Chow Fun)

Release Date: March 12, 2002

www.seanaltman.com

(Check out the Sean Altman interview by clicking here)

Years of experience singing a cappella have brought a feast of harmonic delights that grace the songs on this new and spectacularly melodic collection from former Rockapella co-founder Sean Altman. On this, his second solo release and first to feature full band accompaniment, Altman presents song after song of memorable tunes that feature clever, biting lyrics. It’s a big bunch of bitter that sounds sweet.

Altman updates the old-fashioned three minute radio pop formula of yesteryear, wrapping pretty harmonies around verse, chorus and middle bridge, letting smart and acrid lyrics wend their way into your collective subconscious. The extra treat here is the sheer volume of memorable melodies to choose from; alt.mania is a veritable smorgasbord of Altman’s greatest hits…a very good thing.

Perhaps best known as co-author of the theme song from the children’s show “Where In The World Is Carmen Sandiego?” Altman is no stranger to pop/rock vernacular. His years with Rockapella, performing and writing and recording, have served him well. After helping to build the group into one of the world’s premier contemporary a cappella groups, playing concerts with the likes of Billy Joel, Sting and Don Henley, releasing nine CDs and doing numerous commercials, Sean found it somehow unfulfilling.

In 1997, Altman quit Rockapella in order to explore a solo career in the world of power-pop. Sean explains: "Despite the nine albums, the critical acclaim, the sacks of cash, the mid-level TV celebrity and the thousands of adoring prepubescent groupies, my creative ego-muse hijacked my heart and ran amuck, with my brain and wallet in hot pursuit. I took my bat and ball and flew solo straight to career Burger King, where I'll have it my way with extra ketchup for all eternity.”

Sean’s particular gift to create hook-laden pop was evident on his first CD, 1997’s SeanDEMOnium, an eclectic 30-track collection of home demos, short radio jingles and recorded humorous phone messages to clueless record label offices. Altman’s a cappella skills were also on display, as every musical sound on that CD actually was his voice.

That collection was long on ambition but a bit uneven in production values from track to track, and was all over the musical universe: in short, too many styles and too many songs. Still, it was an auspicious start to the burgeoning solo career, a great showcase for his golden voice and songwriting prowess.

Nearly five years later, we get the long-awaited follow-up, and it proves worth the wait. Where some critics may have attacked the unevenness of SeanDEMOnium, others might now find complaint with the slickness of alt.mania. This is polished pop with a high finished sheen, and the sound of the full band really adds a new level of professionalism to Altman’s music. At long last the public gets to hear some of what sent Sean Altman his solo way those many moons ago, now fully realized.

Kudos should go out to Billy Straus (production) and Andy Heermans (mixing) for making this seem anything but a first full-band effort. The “Full Muscular Band” features Matt Detro on guitar, Winston Roye on bass, and drums split between Tony James and Bob Golden. Sometime co-writer Noel Cohen and producer Billy Straus add guitars to certain tracks, and Lilith Fair’s Deni Bonet adds violin to one track, while Mike Pieck lends organ accompaniment to a few others.

The album opens with the Beatle-esque strings of “Dick About Me” (Stephen Day on cello, Alissa Smith on viola), an infectious diatribe against familiarity: “A twist’ll dim my light & I’ll glow sweetly / But screw me once too tight & I’ll blow completely / Whatever you know you think you see / Well you don’t know dick about me.” The formality of the strings presents a cheeky contrast to the breeziness of the subject matter.

Next up is “Daisy Simone” (which had appeared before in a cappella version on an old Rockapella release), a melodic ode to the futility of falling for a stripper. There’s a musical wink to Zeppelin here (all in context, of course) and Altman’s vivid wordplay keeps you expecting the unexpected: “She got Lady Godiva red hair & epidermis criminally pert / & I’m a button-nosed Boy Scout / My code of honor done turned to dirt / & when she flings her head her sweat drops strafe the back row / Extinguishing the burning issues of the day.”

“More In Hate With You” is a slow burn of a ballad that uses Squeeze-like octave-apart vocals to great effect. Altman’s penchant for creating catchy ones (okay, I’ll tell you up front - they’re all catchy) holds true as he relates the paradox of how thin the line between love and hate: “What a shiny fine double-edged sword you turned out to be / That could bring me almost as much joy as misery / If I had you here I could just as well kiss you as run you through / ‘cause I’m still in love but more in hate with you.”

If you really want to contrast the difference a band makes, Altman offers re-makes of three songs from his first release. “Person” is another paean to bitterness over failed love, perhaps in Altman’s case referring to his own brief marriage and painful divorce (which seems to be an endless fount of creative inspiration). This amalgam of carnival imagery and sexual frustration recalls fifties/sixties pop crooning and now sports even more harmonies propelled by a real rhythm section.

A staple from Altman’s live performance, the revisited “Are You A Man?” remains fairly true to its previous arrangement, only with a band now backing the up-front vocals that attempt to explain this complex gender to all and asks the musical question: “Is he just like everyone else’s man / a walking talking thinking gland?”

My favorite track from the first release is given the upgrade treatment too. “Presto-Change-o” remains strong as ever with its great shifting harmonies, but now features some really nifty guitar hooks as well. Topic-wise, it’s yet another variant on that “failed relationship thing” that fuels the majority of the songs on alt.mania (this one with a magic theme).

Altman has been a performer since his college days at Brown University (poly-sci major, I believe), where he first sang with David Yazbek (fellow pop wunderkind and composer for Broadway’s The Full Monty) in a Simon & Garfunkel-type duo called Moon Pudding. College also saw Altman fronting a new wave band called Blind Dates, while spending days as part of the a cappella group High Jinx (which later spawned Rockapella).

This past history is worth knowing, if only to give a sense that Altman is a musician who plays well with others, a key to the many collaborators he writes with (and part of the reason his music remains fresh from track to track). The new CD presents a healthy assortment of collaborations, including Sean’s version of “Unhappy Anniversary”, a song co-written with Noel Cohen that was recorded by Vitamin C. Once again, it’s lyrical “angst for the memories,” with a healthy dose of bitter bravado at this landmark post-rejection occasion. The other Noel Cohen-assisted composition, “If I Knew Then,” skirts Chris Isaak territory with its lonesome wistful landscape of singing guitars.

We get gently plucked violin strings and sweet falsetto vocals on “The Notion,” a song co-written with Michelle Albano that explores the power of ideas: “The notion of you is better than the real you / the fiction of you owns my heart / so the fact has got to go.” “Town No More” pairs Sean with co-writer Jian Ghomeshi of Moxy Fruvous fame in a hauntingly direct song about (surprise) the aftermath of a failed relationship.

In the final collaboration presented here, Altman and Andrew Chaikin explore the odd quirks of compromise in relationships with a chorus that’s almost a physics puzzler: “I’m not worthy of someone like you / I wish that I was, but I’m not so I got / to make do with someone unworthy of me / Who’s happy to be with a someone / unworthy of someone like you.”

Again, the strength of the music and arrangements is not to be understated, as some of the newer tracks indicate. “Dandelion” ticks like a bomb in a soft verse, exploding into a chorus of harmonies and guitars and even sounds just the slightest bit like the old Rolling Stones’ “Dandelion” for a second before the middle bridge.

“Over & Done” is as radio-ready as a song can be, a bouncy reckoning after the fact: “Time I recognize what’s obvious to anyone & everyone who’s ever been oblivious or blind to the signs & every indication that it’s over, it’s over, it’s over, it’s over and done.”

If you thought harmonies and bitterness were the only tricks up this tall brazen lad’s sleeve, there’s also self-deprecation. “Too Old & Too Ugly” is a tongue-in-cheek assessment (with audience participation) of how the years can take their toll on one-time golden boys, done up in old-time sixties rock n’ roll accompaniment (great guitar work by Matt Detro and nice bass line slide at song’s end by Winston Roye).

As on the first CD, the songs are broken up by shorter tracks of jingles, promo tags, mini-songs and song excerpts (some of which deserve full band treatment on the next CD, perhaps). All told it’s really quite a lot of quality music packed into one CD, but hang on - if you order now, you also get the bonus of a lengthy hidden track.

Hidden is a sweet acoustic song called “Sometime Before Tomorrow,” Sean’s own NYC taxicab “buckle up” message, and (as on the first CD) various personal phone messages that extend the graphic self-deprecation in a way that’s at once horrifying and fascinating, like an audio car wreck.

Let me mention a few other asides here: the CD art and cover feature Sean Altman’s head on several hopeful spermatozoa, as well as a fetal Sean playing guitar in utero. Some might find that humor off-putting, but if so, you’d be missing out on some very fine melodic music. Those looking for additional entertainment and information should check out the website (www.seanaltman.com), wherein Sean trades on his unique mix of intelligence and male adolescent humor.

The site also lets you keep track of Sean Altman’s many performance activities: for instance, he is a regular performer at Joe McGinty’s “Loser Lounge” tribute series, where downtown musicians pay homage to popular musicians, and he also still has an a cappella group called The Groove Barbers. Should you wish, you can even arrange for a home concert, as Mr. Altman is doing this type of guerrilla marketing (as are many other indie bands), touring around solo to play for groups of interested fans.

If you’re a fan of music that lingers in your head and has you humming aloud, you’ll likely be a Sean Altman fan after listening to alt.mania. What’s nice about it is the wide variety (it really does seem like a “greatest hits”) and how everyone will tend to have different favorite songs.

For those who thought warm harmonies and catchy melodic music stopped decades ago, get the mania and be pleasantly surprised. Altman is the real deal, and with fine musicians around him, this CD validates the potential and transforms it into reality (bitter never sounded so sweet). While some pundits laughed when Altman abandoned success with Rockapella to pursue his own dreams, the talented Altman may yet have the last laugh.

Check out the Sean Altman interview by clicking here

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Candy Butchers
Play With Your Head

(RPM Records/Sony Legacy)

Release Date: March 12, 2002

www.candybutchers.com

True confession: at first listen, I was a little unsure about this new release. While a few songs were instantly accessible, this was a very different kind of song collection than that found on 1999’s Falling Into Place. Those songs were by and large gems of the three-minute pop/rock variety. Here there is greater diversity, more ballads, and a smattering of eclectic moods and sounds captured within songs. Of course, what I didn’t realize then was that these songs are like rare flowers, they bloom with a little time and care into the most beautiful things. How apt then that this is a spring release.

What’s missing in so much of modern music is the type of craftsmanship that Mike Viola (who in essence IS the Candy Butchers) brings to his songwriting. Considered a musical genius at age 13, Viola already has put in over twenty years performing. What’s great is that for a man with a lifetime of music already behind him, he continues to grow. Play With Your Head is a step forward, and indicates a lifetime of music still yet to come.

Front and center on this CD is that great unmistakable Viola voice (yes, the same voice that fronted the Oneders singing “That Thing You Do” in the Tom Hanks’ directed movie of the same name). This time around it’s the focal point of the songs, as well it should be (raspy, sort of Graham Parker-ish, but classically expressive). We get Viola the engaging storyteller, drawing us in, using his voice to guide us through the wonderful weave of guitar, bass, drums and sundry additional sounds and instruments with clever and often acrid lyrical turns.

This is a CD where you need to put the headphones on from the start (Viola produced it and Bob Clearmountain mixed it). The haunting bells of a child’s toy music box fade into the distance as drums swell to open this veritable flowerbox of intricately crafted music on “Worry My Dome.” This is upbeat stuff, driven by the solid rhythmic bounce of Pete Donnelly’s bass and Mike Levesque’s drums. Viola’s guitars crunch as he tells us his happy dreams that allow him never to worry his dome again: “I want to kiss a suburban girl / my lips wrapped around her snow white pearl / in the middle of the day at the end of the world / I want to give her Paris and Rome / God forbid she ever finds out on her own / At the end of the day, all the roads lead back home.”

The happiness extends into “My Monkey Made A Man Out Of Me,” a wry celebration of addiction punctuated by ethereal sitar-hooks by one who is “bigger than I was before.”
“Ruby’s Got A Big Idea” is another upbeat sing-along party of a song, featuring great click percussion, and sharp rocking guitars, telling the tale of sad-sack Ruby who has nothing but the big idea.

While the above-mentioned is catchy, “You Belong To Me Now” is 3 minutes, 10 seconds of pure pop ear candy perfection. This is the kind of song that will stay with you for a long time -- delicious guitar tones that dance around that stellar voice in a tune as pretty as they come.

Again, Viola makes his lyrics special, personal and always a bit inscrutable: “I can almost see your mind working, sanding down the edges / with your nervous laughter and your innocence / Suddenly your spirit has shifted, this you cannot measure / with the same old fear that brings us together.”

“Tough Hang” is where Viola begins to play with your head. This is slightly dissonant music that rocks hard as it reflects the harsh anger of the lyrics. It’s a masterful mix, Viola as the lover usurped by another, upset that “he’s playing thumbelina with my Athena, he’s playing little piggies too.” This is keen wordplay: “Out on the interstate, there’s a man rushing home to you / Just like I did when I had something to rush home to / Did you call me over to rub it in / Did you call me over to dig you out / I can’t take it when he talks shit / knowing he makes love to you with that mouth.” Viola captures the rage inherent in the situation: “He’s in the same suit, a different hanger / He’s in the same frame, different face / But he is not my doppelganger, cause I can’t be replaced.” Tough hang, indeed.

“Baby, It’s A Long Way Down” is a sweet ballad where the vocals express the pain (ranging from soft to scream). The guitars build as well (check out the gritty hard tones of the middle bridge) and just as they do, it all fades into a wistful and dulcet quiet at song’s end. This is careful craft, where the spaces are just as important as the notes.

“It’s A Line” is all over the place musically, starting out with a bit of Eastern influence, then onto hard guitars and eventually even crossing a bit into progressive rock territory. Viola uses his voice like an instrument here, commanding your attention as he pounds his confessions home: “Hammering restless thoughts into bad poetry / Lying on our backs laughing at the sun / like we were the first ones to ever see the moon and the stars turned into clichés / You guessed it, it rained on our parade / It’s a line that I’ve drawn, I can’t tell which side I’m on / It’s a line that I’ve drawn, I’ve seen it coming all along.”

It slips into “I Let Her Get Away,” perhaps my favorite song here. This is melancholy of the highest pop musical order, efficiently honed to a bittersweet three minutes. I love the subtle interplay of the guitars and the repeated soft grumble of the bass line, as Viola bemoans that special woman once taken for granted now gone: “Well it all came back in my face / and the past sprayed out like mace / but it was just a little taste of what was to come / Now the only room she’s left for me / is on her answering machine where I say anything to anyone / She lets me get away with everything / She lets me get away with everything / I let her get away.”

“My Heart Isn’t In It” is a spooky musical pastiche of odd atmosphere and sound loops that explores the universe of a modern generation uninspired and condemned to low achievements like working at fast food emporia (“looking to raise some hell but my heart isn’t in it”).

The final two songs here are Mike Viola as folksinger/soloist, and as good an argument as any for seeing him perform live even without his band. This is emotional storytelling at its best from a man who has years of experience playing to audiences.

“Make No Mistake,” with just vocals and guitar, captivates. Of course, the intriguing lyrics help matters along, as the singer tries to coax talk, inspiration and action from one whose lifetime of mistakes is pictured as a movie: “Well it’s not the way it should be, it’s how it’s gonna be / It’s not a flashback, it’s a memory / All eyes are fixed on you / Fade in - your past crashes in waves on the lawn / Fade out - your last laugh lasts a little too long / In your contract there’s a clause / so you’d better save your applause / When I play, make no mistake.”

One can’t help but wonder if it’s a bit of self-criticism as well, from a man who hasn’t always had the best breaks come his way. Growing up in Stoughton, Massachusetts, he was a teen prodigy (“young and talented,” the Boston newspapers proclaimed), in the spotlight since age 13. He was featured as a teen rock star being chased by screaming girls in a sneaker commercial. His band Snap! was opening for the likes of Quiet Riot, Billy Idol and The Plasmatics while he was still in high school. At 14, he was in Southern California recording with the colorful Kim Fowley.

By junior high, he hung with the burnouts who liked Sabbath, Priest and Maiden, while playing the suburbs with his Mike Viola Alliance. The original Candy Butchers was a duo with childhood friend Todd Foulsham. Most of his twenties were spent playing the Boston/New England circuit.

The name “candy butcher” is a throwback to the days of burlesque-houses at the end of World War II. They appeared on the side of the stage in mismatched suits, telling attractive lies and cajoling the audience into buying cigarettes and popcorn. Viola can identify with these con men: “As a performer, you sort of feel like a big liar. It’s such a weird thing being onstage.”
Todd and Mike married their childhood sweethearts (both named Kim), and talked about making the move to New York. But when Mike’s wife was diagnosed with cancer, everything changed. He stayed with her as she battled long and hard against the disease, but ultimately lost. The loss of his wife devastated Mike.

“The lessons that I've learned have been hard enough that I've been tempered by my own experience,” says Viola. “My life has definitely been a trial by fire. I never belonged to any sort of religion or any sort of club or clique. It's always been just me on my own. I've fallen in love deeply a few times in my life, and had tragic things happen to those people.”

Boston became too painful for him. Needing a change of scenery he moved to New York to try and rebuild his life. Todd stayed behind and eventually drifted away from music. Viola re-invented The Candy Butchers in downtown Manhattan clubs, playing often and releasing an EP (Live At La Bonbonniere) with the Blue Thumb label. His bad luck continued as a fully recorded album never saw the light of day (the label went bankrupt).

But some good things have happened. His CD Falling Into Place was a critical success. And he did co-write and record the lead vocals for That Thing You Do, albeit reluctantly. Additionally, he’s an accomplished sound engineer, having done work for many others. Judging by his collection of thousands of vinyl records, he is a great fan of all things musical, both old and new.

Mostly he admires and respects the kind of music with substance to it, which transforms and transports, and aspires to the same. While incredibly prolific, Viola refuses to stay in one place. He’s experimenting, challenging himself always, whether live or recording at home. On Play With Your Head, he reaches a new level of engaging the patient listener. This CD is the aural equivalent of those 3-D pop-up books. You have to concentrate on each song and then bang it all comes into focus and leaves you wowed.

“Call Off The Dogs” is the poignant closer, with a cinematic lead-in that fades to the quiet strains of sweet guitar and voice. In sharp contrast to the pretty and spare lullaby are the caustic lyrics of hurt and emotional pain between mother and son: “Since I’ve called off the dogs / they have left her to bleed / Just a mother who’s lost without a mouth to feed / Plastic covers the furniture where she ate her own / The last time I heard from her I was screening my phone / We both hurt so much, waiting for closure / Hush baby hush, it’s almost over.”
While Viola may never reach the kind of commercial success his one-hit wonder fictional counterparts did, he continues to grow as a craftsman while managing to keep afloat. In that sense, you can’t deny the success he’s achieved here with a little over 37 minutes worth of tight intimate and emotional treasures. Don’t give up on this intelligent well-crafted effort. Play Play With Your Head until you get it; then once you do, you won’t be able to stop.

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Wes Cunningham
Pollyanna

(Pentavarit)

Release Date: November 19, 2001

www.wescunningham.com

If a tree falls in a forest and there’s no one there to hear it, does it make a sound? If the tremendously talented Wes Cunningham releases a second CD and no one really knows about it, is there any justice whatsoever? Somehow this soft-toned collection of a dozen new songs (yes, there’s a hidden track) was released this past November and managed to evade my reviewing radar. That is, until now. While the whole CD clocks in at only a little over 38 minutes (slightly shorter than his first one), I’d have to say this is a matter of quality over quantity. This is music well worth your while.

Wes Cunningham is that oddity in the music business, a truly normal guy (or so he claims). In fact, he considers himself a boring person and goes out of his way to avoid the limelight. He’s a private person, one who once taught high school and worked for a tree-trimming service and who knows what else. I’m going to assume that he’s married to a woman named Emilie, who apparently inspired the songs here (and also is credited with the CD cover photography). My only true knowledge is that he remains blessed with a real ability to create sweetly endearing love songs.

Pollyanna is a muted affair in comparison to his previous outing, more introspective perhaps and less quirky in its offerings overall. There is a sense of maturity to the fun now. Still, there is a marvelous quality to all that Cunningham lets out the door. These are well-crafted songs that are assembled with love and skill, quiet delights that unravel and reward over time.

For those not in the know, Cunningham is a lanky fun-loving singer/songwriter who was born in the Phillipines, raised in Dallas and now resides in Chicago. His 1997 debut CD 12 Ways To Win People To Your Way Of Thinking on Warner Brothers impressed quite a few folks with its wide range of styles and craftsmanship. He managed to work in bits of hip-hop and Latin flavors along with crunchy guitars and winning melodies.

On the first CD, Cunningham was enjoying himself - that much was obvious. He was all over the place, yet always managed to show a fine ear for the kind of hook-laden pop that nestles inside your brain’s music lobe and never leaves (“So It Goes”, “Say My Name” just to name two of several).

The new CD continues that tradition with “Only You Know”, an anthem to fun itself. This track is the most obvious connection to the first release, sounding like it could be a distant cousin of “So It Goes”. It features clever wordplay: “I’m a truckin’ trucker’s sweetheart, I’m as phat as I am / I believe in my dancing, got a badass tan / want escape into freedom, wanna jump my rope, sweetheart.” This is evidence that he can still do the fun ear-candy stuff when he wants, though much of this new CD is reflective and just a shade darker.

Since the new release is on the Nashville-based Pentavarit label, I assume the major label deal fell through; perhaps they didn’t see the kind of numbers they wanted. Again, their loss is the smaller label’s gain. Cunningham may now be focusing on different things with his music, but the talent hasn’t faded any over time.

For example the new song “Now Or Never” is a complex musical concoction with shifting tempos, yet it provides a great showcase for Cunningham’s agile smooth voice, holding forth with a tale of the bad boy coming back to ask forgiveness in a time of need: “It was so easy to sell you out; you didn’t even fight / I laughed at your bleeding heart and ran off into the night / and you should have seen me there, burning so bright and fast / and up until the bitter end, I tried to make it last / And so it’s now or never (talk to me) /And so it’s now or never (come to me) /And so it’s now or never I need you.” This aching plea is far from just another run-of-the-mill love song.

In “I Fall For Her (Over and Over),” we get Cunningham as crooner, and it works. This heartfelt reminisce of a ballad sung in little more than an emotive whisper, sings thoughts about how proud he was to be her lover and her friend, yet nothing matters now since she went away. Cunningham manages to stretch the word “matters” into four beats and strings emphasize these malingering thoughts, yet it all comes together as a lovely tune of love gone awry.

While he has grown older, the evidence suggests he doesn’t take himself any more seriously. His new website bio only offers this insight: “I sometimes wear boots, I like this and that, I love my friends. I like to create music because it’s therapeutic, indulgent, and usually fun. I like creating other things, but music is the best medium because it has it all. You can tell a story, or get personal (or not), or get it off your chest, or send secret messages, or just rock. You can step outside of yourself - there are no rules.”

Past information told us that Wes Cunningham loves tacos, movies and basketball, hot sauce, a good haircut, road trips on no money, John Lennon, Texas and his old red Suburban, "Bud." His honesty and spontaneity were the keys to his good luck in having music be “a job.” "Writing isn't a discipline for me," says the singer/songwriter who avoids theory like he avoids the snow and cold. "I just put down whatever amuses me at the moment ... grabbing the music that best fits the current thought. I rarely re-write, and seldom spend more than an hour on a song."

I’m not sure that still holds true. It seems the new batch of songs are well crafted and the result of more careful deliberation. The keen sense of irony and metaphor remain, but the music seems to have slowed down, as if to better reflect the thought put into each song. The sense of humor turns up here and there, but this collection concentrates on a more personal mix of introspective ballads.

Perhaps the darkest example of that is on the hidden track “You Kill The Things You Love.” This is stripped-down piano and vocals (with a violin solo), examining the futility of love: “Once your heart turns black, there ain’t no going back / Once you shoot the gun, you’re forever on the run / A darkness has no name, just gets into your veins / and the thrill that you despise puts fire in your eyes / In dreams I reach out for her, but she never turns around / You kill the things you love.”

One thing remains constant for Cunningham, the importance of the song: “To create a thing is to want to see it flourish. Ask any parent, scientist, writer, whatever - the act of "making stuff up" is the most fulfilling thing to be sure. But what next? These beautiful (to you) creatures - you want to see what they can do - see them make friends - see them loved and appreciated the way you love and appreciate them. The thing is, they probably won't ever be the most popular kids.”

Again, I beg to differ. “I Love Eleanor” is one of the prettiest odes one is likely to hear. Soft guitar and harmonies abound as the singer professes his love: “And I write it everywhere, on the tables and on the chairs / yeah, even as the cars go past, I write on the overpass / my love is so profound, I have to write it down / I love Eleanor, she’s the girl I’m living for / I love Eleanor, and yeah nothing matters anymore but lovely Eleanor.”

“Shoot Straight" also might find some popularity, as it vies for catchiest tune on Pollyanna. As handclaps punctuate an infectious chorus, we hear the confessions of someone trying to change himself (unsuccessfully) for a relationship: “Just so you know, I want it on the record, I’m not the right man for you / I’m as dirty as dirt, gonna write it on my shirt, and let my little secret out / ‘cause fires flare up all the time, in my mind, I know…lord, I know / I can’t shoot straight, or fly right, and nothing good happens after midnight / I can’t slow it down or straighten up and all indecent pictures, got to give ‘em all up / I’ve tried so hard to give you something honest, to give you something good and true / But I can’t clean up and the dirt under my fingernails messes everything up / So don’t tell me that I’m okay, or that my heart is pure, ‘cause I know better.”

Those dirty fingernails and Cunningham’s lack of pretension about his skills are refreshing. His critically praised 12 Ways To Win People To Your Way Of Thinking drew comparisons to Elvis Costello, Neil Finn, Ron Sexsmith and even John Lennon. It hasn’t gone to his head, and he remains committed to the music that invaded his life when a camp counselor first played him a Beach Boys album: he was six years old.

By age ten, he had worked his way through his parents’ Beatles collection, in chronological order. He started writing music in his mother's piano classes where he traded struggles with reading music into praise at recitals for writing his own songs. When a friend introduced him to the electric guitar, the piano got put on hold.

At Baylor University, Cunningham spent all his money and time recording. After graduation, he started making trips to Nashville, recording and shopping the material around until luck and talent and perseverance coincided to the events that led to that first record deal.

At the time of his first CD, Cunningham wrote about his right to write pretty pop songs. “It’s pop music - you gotta take the sugar with the salt. Just because you cry at funerals doesn’t mean that you don’t laugh at farts,” he noted. “It’s all just expression - some passes right through, some sits in your stomach for a while. Anyway, this rant is in response to nothing, if not my own self-criticism as to why I don’t feel like writing songs to free Tibet. Maybe someday I will, but for now it’s like - Who wants to play basketball?”

Four years can make a difference. In the song “No Justice,” Cunningham shows his frustration at the ways of the world, how you can follow all the rules and still, the truth is never served: “Come down, breathe a little, you know you did all you could / Nothing works the way it should /A good man, good reputation always playing by the rules / but all your life kicked by fools /and they don’t apologize, don’t even look you in the eyes /And there’s no justice in this world, no matter what you say /There’s no justice in this world, so put your guns away / There’s no justice in this world, we’re all guilty as hell /There’s no justice in this world, and god knows, it’s just as well.”

“Good Good Feeling” is a catchy tune, this one a lyrical reassurance to a friend, wife or daughter who has had nightmares. It’s about the comfort and possibilities that come with a new day’s sunshine. “Your Last Kiss” trades on the pentatonic scale, giving an Eastern flavor to this hauntingly romantic slow-tempo number about finality, closeness and relationships. “Glory” is the shortest little gem here, a sweet harmony-filled philosophical plea for missing and much-needed glory in what seems “Just another ordinary everyday all in all replaceable for a price.”

“Nevermind” is another simple song of reassurance to a friend (or child), using a spare guitar, glockenspiel and harmony arrangement: “If those assholes call you names, nevermind, nevermind / what do they know anyway, they were never friends of mine / And if they hurt you they hurt me / so what if they can’t see what I see, baby / I’m with you now, I am you now.” As the chorus and verses meld together at song’s end, it shows how Cunningham has grown musically.

“Who Was I” is another short wistful gem that pulls on the heartstrings, as the singer’s laments contrast the upbeat keyboard hook of the music. The qualities of the poignant lyrics truly capture that feeling of looking back on better times: “Who am I to say remember when / Who am I but some forgotten friend / Who am I to wonder where you are tonight / Who am I to want to rest my head on your lap as you breathe in bed / Who am I to even dream of you tonight / And we would laugh ourselves silly all night long / and then we’d climb up on the roof and wait till dawn / but alas I forget myself / who am I but the last to know.”

This is dynamic music from a gifted and thoughtful singer/songwriter, often beautiful and haunting, a natural progression from what came before, focused and personal. If you take the time to give these songs a thorough listen, you will be well rewarded. Seek out these sweet examinations of love desired, love lost, comforting reassurances and realizations that things aren’t just (www.cdbaby.com). Cunningham throws himself into his music on Pollyanna and while he claims to be an ordinary guy, his talents let us know otherwise.

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