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***If you went back in time to 1956, got Jerry Lee Lewis feeling a little loose, took him to see a Flash Gordon movie and asked him to close his eyes and imagine what kind of music would be coming out of Memphis in the futuristic paradise that awaits mankind beyond the year 2000, the Killer might very well answer dreamily, "Cloud-Wow, darlin', Cloud-Wow." Forget the worn-out, overexposed sound of one hand clapping, and about why the Killer's calling you "darlin'." Shelby Bryant's music expresses the jubilant and, until this time unthinkable, sound of Charles Brown kicking Lucy Van Pelt's elusive football over the sun - with a soundtrack courtesy of an all new electric Schroeder. It pours from the speakers like vibrating sheets of dark and viscous liquid heated to womb temperature. Shelby Bryant has retro gear and oddball style a-plenty, but it's the pure, ruthless, bona fide hooks that set him apart from the hordes of synth-pop pretenders. Harvested in his hometown of Memphis, this bountiful crop of Cloud-Wow Music marks this ex-Clears mainman's inaugural plunge into solo mode. Actual tunes, pitch-perfect in their execution, and Lindsay Buckingham-like in their effortless tour-de-forcedom, drape the album in a kind of cosmic tunic (with platform heels and eyeliner to match). We expect this album, and therefore expect you to expect this album, to make serious waves. |
