Really sorry Mr. Fadensonnen, but those Cee-Dees that you sent me are going to have to wait for just a little while. Ditto for thee Mr. Shute (and sorry if I lost the smattering of chapbooks you gave me...they're bound turn up around here eventually!). Yeah I know I've been starving for material to spout off about in the pages of this blog but right now I've been letting the REAL WORLD get the best of me...y'know, spending more time than I should cutting the yard, hauling wood and coal into the cellar and chasing queers outta my neighborhood with less of it to spend on some of the finer things in life. It's like a fellow can't hardly settle down to watch an episode of IT PAYS TO BE IGNORANT like he oughta without the rigors of life overcoming him like neighborhood kids on the sno cone man! But hey Mr. Bear, I did manage to give your latest release a play (figured that since it came in the mail just yesterday and the package was more or less staring me in the face why not???) and after all's said and done and the laser light flashes off all I gotta say is...
Oh, dash it all with these cliffhanger paragraphs 'n let me tell you that this Hypocrite in a Hippy Crypt guy/group? is yet another bright-eyed-and-bushy-tailed discovery of the erstwhile Gulcher label head that really throws me for a loop with these outta-nowhere demo-like folk/pop excursions. Mr. Crypt's entire oeuvre is based somewhere in the acoustic neo/post-folk genre, and he just might be in the forefront of said movement with his sound, swerve and style that reminds me of a cross between solo John Lennon and Syd Barrett with a few other sixties refs (Beach Boys during their late-sixties reaching maturity period) thrown in for good measure. Maybe even some of the eighties anti-folk types can be used as hotcha reference points, but overall Crypt (who according to the press sheet is still in high school!) has nada of that decadent smarm to his approach sounding like he's got a really healthy appreciation of mid-sized city/suburban living complete with a two-car garage and Tee-Vee antenna smack dab on the top of the roof! Naturally that may seem more than a bore to this troubadour stuck inside of Carmel Indiana with the Bloomington blues, but perhaps this is the best atmosphere in which a talent like Crypt could grow free of the stifling confines which make up modern day BIG CITY SHMUCKERY.
The songs are simple, perhaps even fragile at times acoustic pop rockers, the kind that probably would have given Greg Shaw reason for even more organ transplants had he given these a listen to way back in the mid-seventies. Yet they're tuff enuff in their own sorta Hackamore Brick-ish ways (well, at least regarding Brick's more Chick Newman-ish acoustic numbers!) as they evoke the past and mix it with the present hopefully making for a fine future in whatever's left of this thing called the International Youth Language. And for a high-schooler this Crypt kid's pretty astute in the lyrics department (sheet shoulda been required) plus his music is far more advanced than the usual pop churn outs that seem to be handled by people who would be put to a more suitable use stuffing sausages into casings. It's too bad someone like this "Hippie Crypt" kid will probably end up existing in obscurity while less-interesting talents are gonna be gettin' the fame and notoriety that the really bigguns always seem to miss out on.
Heck, even caught a tad bit of HIGHWAY 61 REVISITED-period Dylan (with some hot '66 El Lay folkrockisms a la the Rockets) on "William J. Harris" which might be an even better mid-Amerigan ribbing than anything Bobby D. came up with long before Weberman decided to give him the ol' hell from womb to tomb treatment. Hmmmm, something tells me there might just be a bright future in store for Crypt and his pure pop for folkrock people which sounds filtered enough that even Brian Sands would get a kick outta it. Anyway, if you really wanna go tell him how much you love him, do so by going to his website here.