This review is written by Kevin McCarthy, 12/99
"Kevin and Maxine’s Celtic & Folk Music CD Reviews"
http://www.icogitate.com/~celticfolkmusic/index.html
mailto:celticfolkmusic@icogitate.com
No, Virginia, there is no Eddie From Ohio. Er...let me try that again. There is an Eddie From Ohio but there really isn't an Eddie From Ohio. Got that? No? What I'm trying to say is...what am I trying to say? There are four musicians who comprise the group Eddie From Ohio, one is named Eddie but he isn't from Ohio. Glad I could set you straight...now explain it to me.
Michael Clem, Robbie Schaeffer, Julie Murphy Wells and (sounds of trumpets) the dubiously-named Eddie Hartness are the members of EFO and they carry on their playfulness past their moniker hijinks well into their music. Theirs is a quite often unique, tongue-in-cheek, just a little off-beat presentation, whether it be of quirky humor or more sober matters.
"Stupid American" opens the release, a percussion-driven, danceable number that takes a poke at American cultural pedestrianism abroad. Too often expressed and exposed, our faux pas unfortunately make Americans the easiest group to spot in a foreign country.
Recognition, displacement, freedom and irony seep out in "Fifth of July," The band's uniquity is displayed by the lyrics, with a special homage to Johnny Horton's "Battle of New Orleans:"
Lookin out the kennel at the dying oak tree
ever since the newborn no one's looking at me
but I bet with these incisors I could gnaw through this lead
a two mile run to the county line
a two state run to the sea
I could run through the briars and the brambles
where a rabbit wouldn't go
so fast, the hounds couldn't catch me
like a Johnny Horton show
and anywhere is where I wanna be...
one if by land two if by sea
three if by phone or facsimile
four if by plane five if by boat
six if bilingual seven by goat
eight by 10 glossies of me..."
They're fiddlin down in Galax, pickin up in Floyd
and in the land of Patsy Cline,
they're songs you can't avoid
When you're walkin' after midnight, I'll fall to pieces, too
I'm crazy back in baby's arms with sweet dreams of you
They're sailin down in Norfolk, skiing up in Bryce
climbin' up the Devil's Stairs against Ranger's advice
They're harvesting in Loudoun to Shenandoah winds
and in the land near Washington, they're rootin
for the Skins (Fight for Old D.C.)..."
And they talked about injustice
And they talked about freedom
And they talked about Hitler
And made love to piss him off
And they talked about forgiveness
And they cried for their loneliness
And they talked about belonging--immigrant lives
And the snow raged past the window
And they held on to each other
And they stared out at Minnesota
And everything looked the same..."
There is one of me, and one of you
and two of us with one hundred questions
and two thousand reasons, but ten's a perfect number
We are twenty thousand hearts full of hunger
Twenty thousand hearts
Then we're dancing in Geneva--it's New Year's Eve
and all the American were there
They said "it's still last year in New York City"
You said, "New York where?"
I said, "New York City--it's three thousand miles away"
You said, "What's a mile?" I said, "It's far away"...
Now you ask me to explain myself
and I tell you I need distance
You say, "To hell with distance, remember who you're talking to"
I say, "Closeness is too much for me,"
and dismiss you with a smile
You say, "Wish away the closeness and imagine it's a mile"...
Maylee, I had a dream the other night
I can't forget the awful sight
of your head stuck in the freezer
Maylee, I couldn't tell if you were experimenting
with poor-man's cryogenics
or looking for the orange sherbet...
Maylee, I had a dream the other night
In your hand was a knife, a very sharp knife
You said you'd cut your heart out
Maylee, there you stood with your heart
in your hand, you said "here is my heart"
"You wanted it so bad, here now take it"...
Lately I've overheard you complaining on the phone
to your mother
And the only reason I mention it now is the book
on your night table:
"There Must Be Fifty Ways to Kill Your Lover"
Maylee, I had a dream the other night
I can't forget the awful sight
of the bookcase toppling down on me
Maylee, the bookcase missed my head
now I'm just really well-read
I was stuck under there for hours...
You bought me a kitty cat, and that's just fine
My dog enjoys chewing on your kitty cat (good dog)
There's nothing but the waves, the fish and the kelp
in between her and him
they entertained the thought about meeting halfway
but neither knows how to swim
He has a pump she has a pail
they'll empty this quarry soon
stand on a rock and see each other wave
and for now that will have to do
'til the Atlantic's dry
There's a lighthouse there's an outhouse
both rely on a torch, just different bulbs
he sends flowers--it takes hours
just to lie on her porch, they're quite different bulbs...
Bridge the distance, drain the ocean
pave a highway on the sandy floor
part the waters with devotion--it's just a thought
a reunion near Bermuda
they're too tired to hug, they just stand and gleam
dehydrated yet elated
and they suddenly wake, they've both shared a dream...
'til the airfares drop to Greyhound rates
for now that will have to do
'til Mother Earth moves and shifts some plates
for now that will have to do
'til the Crown reclaims the United States
for now that will have to do
'til Saint Peter opens up Heaven's gates
for now that will have to do
'til the Atlantic's dry"
Main vocalist Julie Murphy Wells is joined by Michael Clem on bass, guitar, harp and vocals; Robbie Schaefer on guitar and vocals; and Eddie Hartness on percussion and vocals.
Copyright © 1998-2008 Kevin & Maxine’s Celtic & Folk Music CD Reviews. All rights reserved.
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