jeffrey scott. last rites for a dying heart. review by alan haber. buhdge

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Last Rites for a Dying Heart Jeffrey Scott Sweet Onion (2005) Save for serious music fans, the total, immersing listening experience is a lost art, a white elephant without purpose or relevance. Back in the days of vinyl, certainly, taking out the lyrics sheet or liner notes and reading them while an album played for the first time was a pursuit to be savored. For at least a short time after the last note resonated, you would sit still, taking it all in--the sounds, the packaging, the whole megillah. This still happens today, but not nearly as often as it used to, and that is nothing if not sad. But remember that it takes an album that is majestic in scope, that sounds alive, that has all the elements in place, to get even the most discerning of music aficionados to sit still for the entire length of a musical creation, lyrics sheet at the ready, brain fixated on the sounds and sights at hand. Jeffrey Scott's widescreen debut, Last Rites for a Dying Heart, provides you with all that and more, and it does so with inspired, at-times surprising song constructions that come from the heart. The gifted multi-instrumentalist and singer Scott, working with bassist and horn player Brian Netzley and drummer (and co-producer) Dave Coulter, has created a unique, old-fashioned song cycle, the roots of which can be traced to basically two, seemingly disparate influences: Queen and the Beach Boys. Throw in slightly more than a dash of Vaudevillian spirit, a flair for the theatric, and a teaspoon of vocal glam, and you've got an album that's going to make you a better person for having listened to it. The album's structure, two distinct "acts" separated by a lively, varied intermission medley, places it firmly in concept album mode; the curtain rises on Act I as the orchestra tunes up, and a heavenly, Beach Boys-like choir delivers a benediction of sorts, a lovely, harmony-drenched a capella melody entitled "Last Rites." This leads directly into the bouncy, sixties-flavored, horn-enhanced "All That I Can Do," a lover's plea for romantic bliss tempered by indecision and the mind's true love. The surprising, marching band break, followed by the Queen-like, electric-guitar ending, leading into a reprise of "Last Rites" pretty much says it all: Scott is a musical force to be reckoned with. The artist channels Freddie Mercury in the astonishing, theatrical "I'll Be Going Home," which sounds like something that could have been on Queen's A Night at the Opera. The amazing "Don't," an examination of love achieved at a price, builds confidently to an intoxicating chorus capped off with a pretty melody line punctuated by the sound of sleigh bells. "Cupid's Suicide," another nod to Queen, is an all-out melodic assault on the senses, complete with high-grade, Brian May-esque electric guitar runs; vibes sounds; and Four Freshman-styled harmony vocals. The seven-minute epic "Ballad of Blackbeard Lawler" is quite the cinematic specimen, unspooling acoustically as the sounds of film running through a projector play underneath. The story of an outlaw who struck down a man's wife, son and daughter, and the vengeance that his cowardly act sets into motion, this is a maddeningly creative exercise, containing elements of balladry, Old West ethics, saloon piano drunken singalong, theatrical comeuppance, and Beach Boys harmonies. Quite extraordinary, really, and quite fun. Act 2 follows proudly in Act I's footsteps with songs such as "Music Box Dirge," which is really anything but musically, despite its tale of woebegone life; the pretty music and typically grand a capella harmonies and music box sounds provide the yang to the story's yin. The short, sprightly pop song, "Mary Ann," full of warm and fuzzies all around, is designed for singing along, and make no mistake about it, handclaps are required. "Doo-Wop Lovers," musically reminiscent of the much revered form, interestingly does not include traditional doo-wop background vocalizing in its mix, but I can hear it being sung on a New York City street corner in all its glory, just the same. The closing number, a loud, raucous electrified belter entitled "Just Beg" is not at all out of character with the rest of this album; on the contrary, its elemental makeup of bits and pieces of instrumentation from the songs that preceded it--amped-up guitars, aggressive drumming, and emotive singing--is the perfect ender. It's designed to get the audience up and applauding, ending the program on a high note as they head for the theater exits. And it does, but not before echoes of the harmonies of "Last Rites" play out (literally, along with the sound of a needle coming to the end of a record) and set you on your way. Once there, the memories of a truly grand night are solidified in your mind's eye. The total, immersing listening experience is back in full force with this album, a very special and highly entertaining collection of songs by a master of his art. Taking it all in is once again fun, and most rewarding. Alan Haber April 9, 2005
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Last Rites for a Dying Heart
Jeffrey Scott
Sweet Onion (2005)

jeffrey scott's last rites for a dying heart Save for serious music fans, the total, immersing listening experience is a lost art, a white elephant without purpose or relevance. Back in the days of vinyl, certainly, taking out the lyrics sheet or liner notes and reading them while an album played for the first time was a pursuit to be savored. For at least a short time after the last note resonated, you would sit still, taking it all in--the sounds, the packaging, the whole megillah. This still happens today, but not nearly as often as it used to, and that is nothing if not sad.

But remember that it takes an album that is majestic in scope, that sounds alive, that has all the elements in place, to get even the most discerning of music aficionados to sit still for the entire length of a musical creation, lyrics sheet at the ready, brain fixated on the sounds and sights at hand. Jeffrey Scott's widescreen debut, Last Rites for a Dying Heart, provides you with all that and more, and it does so with inspired, at-times surprising song constructions that come from the heart.

The gifted multi-instrumentalist and singer Scott, working with bassist and horn player Brian Netzley and drummer (and co-producer) Dave Coulter, has created a unique, old-fashioned song cycle, the roots of which can be traced to basically two, seemingly disparate influences: Queen and the Beach Boys. Throw in slightly more than a dash of Vaudevillian spirit, a flair for the theatric, and a teaspoon of vocal glam, and you've got an album that's going to make you a better person for having listened to it.

The album's structure, two distinct "acts" separated by a lively, varied intermission medley, places it firmly in concept album mode; the curtain rises on Act I as the orchestra tunes up, and a heavenly, Beach Boys-like choir delivers a benediction of sorts, a lovely, harmony-drenched a capella melody entitled "Last Rites." This leads directly into the bouncy, sixties-flavored, horn-enhanced "All That I Can Do," a lover's plea for romantic bliss tempered by indecision and the mind's true love. The surprising, marching band break, followed by the Queen-like, electric-guitar ending, leading into a reprise of "Last Rites" pretty much says it all: Scott is a musical force to be reckoned with.

The artist channels Freddie Mercury in the astonishing, theatrical "I'll Be Going Home," which sounds like something that could have been on Queen's A Night at the Opera. The amazing "Don't," an examination of love achieved at a price, builds confidently to an intoxicating chorus capped off with a pretty melody line punctuated by the sound of sleigh bells. "Cupid's Suicide," another nod to Queen, is an all-out melodic assault on the senses, complete with high-grade, Brian May-esque electric guitar runs; vibes sounds; and Four Freshman-styled harmony vocals.

The seven-minute epic "Ballad of Blackbeard Lawler" is quite the cinematic specimen, unspooling acoustically as the sounds of film running through a projector play underneath. The story of an outlaw who struck down a man's wife, son and daughter, and the vengeance that his cowardly act sets into motion, this is a maddeningly creative exercise, containing elements of balladry, Old West ethics, saloon piano drunken singalong, theatrical comeuppance, and Beach Boys harmonies. Quite extraordinary, really, and quite fun.

Act 2 follows proudly in Act I's footsteps with songs such as "Music Box Dirge," which is really anything but musically, despite its tale of woebegone life; the pretty music and typically grand a capella harmonies and music box sounds provide the yang to the story's yin. The short, sprightly pop song, "Mary Ann," full of warm and fuzzies all around, is designed for singing along, and make no mistake about it, handclaps are required. "Doo-Wop Lovers," musically reminiscent of the much revered form, interestingly does not include traditional doo-wop background vocalizing in its mix, but I can hear it being sung on a New York City street corner in all its glory, just the same.

The closing number, a loud, raucous electrified belter entitled "Just Beg" is not at all out of character with the rest of this album; on the contrary, its elemental makeup of bits and pieces of instrumentation from the songs that preceded it--amped-up guitars, aggressive drumming, and emotive singing--is the perfect ender. It's designed to get the audience up and applauding, ending the program on a high note as they head for the theater exits.

And it does, but not before echoes of the harmonies of "Last Rites" play out (literally, along with the sound of a needle coming to the end of a record) and set you on your way. Once there, the memories of a truly grand night are solidified in your mind's eye.

The total, immersing listening experience is back in full force with this album, a very special and highly entertaining collection of songs by a master of his art. Taking it all in is once again fun, and most rewarding.

Alan Haber
April 9, 2005