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Gomo, Dennis - Hiding Out In Limbo - Independent - DROG 020 | Gomo, Dennis - Hiding Out In Limbo - Independent - DROG 020 |
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| Written by John Taylor | |
There seems a trend of late, a return to the roots, if you
will, that sees many an artist formerly fronting a band turning their
attentions to solo projects. It's economical, to be sure, and affords an intimacy, an unencumbered and direct means of expression that can be very revealing. The danger, however, is that the relatively limited palette that results can render many such projects… well, the truth is that after a while there's a certain lack of excitement. The trick, of course, is to find a sound that remains true to one's vision while injecting something unique, something that makes one disc stand out from the rest. Dennis Gomo spent some 20 years working in various band settings before going solo for his debut recording, Hiding Out In Limbo. Okay, strictly speaking it isn't entirely a solo effort, in that Dennis enlists the help of percussionists Vince Maccarone (The Sidemen) and Jeff Bird, and accordionist Chris Dahmer, to add additional texture. But it's Gomo, his guitar and harmonica (both all-acoustic throughout), who's front and centre here. And a fine outing it is indeed. Gomo wrote six (one co-written) of the disc's 13 tracks, and while they may not always conform to 12-bar convention, they maintain a bluesy mood that fits right in with a playlist that includes such fare as Casey Bill Weldon's Outskirts Of Town, Yank Rachel's She Caught The Katy, Big Bill Broonzy's Key To The Highway (here given an almost jaunty reading), and Jimmy Lane's (better known as Jimmy Rogers) That's Alright. Lyrically, however, Gomo's concerns are a little more metaphysical than the average "woman-done-me-wrong" themes - witness the title track, which borrows the melody of Buddy Johnson's immortal Since I Fell For You for a meditation on salvation and redemption; or Let Me In, which kicks things off, a plea for love that seems more general than specific. Elsewhere there's the almost-mournful Take Me Some Time, with its hint of an eastern influence in Gomo's guitar work, and the philosophically resigned Eyes Wide Open. Gomo is a fine guitarist, and his clean, uncluttered harmonica work is appropriately moody and atmospheric. His singing, like his music, is simple and straightforward, never forced, and highly effective as a result. Liner notes point out that everything was recorded "live off the floor", with only the accordion and percussion overdubbed. There's a nice clarity to Gomo's guitars, but the whole has a vaguely echoey feel that seems to place the music in the ether - even if one's dead centre between the speakers it seems to be all around, not quite but almost as if one's hearing Gomo from another room. In some cases that would be undesirable, but in the case of "Limbo", somehow it's just right. It's part of what makes the disc unique, but a much larger factor is Gomo's use of accordion. Now, I remember a time when the squeezebox, at least in my safe white world, was about the most uncool thing one could possibly play. Strictly Lawrence Welk territory. But Mr. Dahmer wields his weapon wisely (I can't believe I just said that!), and it lends a vaguely melancholic air to proceedings. Indeed, melancholy seems the prevailing mood here, with a sort of thoughtful, bittersweet feel throughout. Recommended! Copyright 2003. Review by John Taylor. |
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