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Bob McCluskey, formerly with the Taoist Cowboys and
currently of the Estradas, composes pretty folk ditties
with offbeat, even quaint lyrical themes and the kind of
loose, off-key singing the anti-folk movement has made
familiar. But this record was first recorded on a
four-track back in 1994, when that conceit wasn't so old
hat, and much of the guilelessness of these recordings
makes them all the more precious. McCluskey is a bigwig
in the Knoxville music scene, but hasn't achieved much
national recognition. More than anything, Emergency
Lunch Box brings to mind the solitary
singer-songwriter toiling in a coffee shop in a small
town, waiting for someone to sit down and really listen,
and be taken by surprise. Who doesn't have a friend
they've seen at a cafe or open-mike night, exposing
hidden songwriting skills and even more hidden emotional
intensities? This kind of in-your-face heartfelt-ness
can be annoying, even when it's your friend, but given
half a chance, an artist like Bob McCluskey shows a real
talent for verse and an even greater one for melody. At
his best, on songs like "Rosanna Arquette", "Nobody
Cares for the Drunks" and two instrumental tracks,
McCluskey manages to evoke rather rich landscapes and
stories with nothing more than his guitar and voice. The
production quality is not stellar, but there's something
of the second-generation tape-trade in the sound that's
fitting. The inanities of the halfwit narrator in
"Stupid Things" ride a tricky line between charming and
pathetic ("Who squashed ole Sasquatch / And who locked
up the Loch Ness Monster") with a bit of a lean toward
the latter. Other tracks ("You're not a God",
"Clothesline") progress through basic folk schemes
without much of a payoff sonically or lyrically. Still,
doubtless there's a whole host of Bob McCluskey fans who
are rabidly awaiting this release by their favorite
coffee house staple, and many more who have yet to
discover him. -- J.
Gabriel Boylan
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