Search - Deadman :: Paramour

PARAMOUR

jandazzatron | Massachusetts | 04/16/2002

(5 out of 5 stars)

"I'm no good at this reviewing stuff, but this CD is deserving of one, so I'll give it a whirl.



Upon first listen, "Paramour" had an Emmylou Harris, "Wrecking Ball" feel to it---then I was to find out it was produced by Mark Howard, a Lanois prodigy. Ah-ha, so there you go....



Wistful, weeping guitar, deep rhythms, and rich vocals infuse the tracks on "Paramour." This is stirring, bucolic music that seeps inside and possesses you. While the mood remains a constant through-line, the feel varies: "Blue River" is bluesy and soulful; "The Ballad of Padre Miguel" has a Latin flavor; and "Rosa Marie" is deep and penetrating in its sensual, pleading story.



"Paramour" pulls from various traditions, sounds, and influences (you'll hear a little bit of U2, a touch of Neil Young, some Dylan here and there, a bit of Emmylou, Chris Isaak and Old West and an occasional hue of P.J. Harvey) but DEADMAN has a sound and feel that is very much its own: at the same time ghostly and romantic; creating a dynamic, and complex feel, likening to an old western flick filmed in the middle of autumn, and taking a old horse down a lost highway."

Eerie, desolate

David Group | Buffalo, NY | 02/09/2004

(4 out of 5 stars)

"You've been driving all day under the baking southwest desert sun, and are thirsty and tired. If you don't get gas soon, you'll be stranded in the desert. You dig through your CDs-- Tom Waits, Cowboy Junkies, Thin White Rope-- and pull out a new one you had just bought and put it in the player. As the music begins, a small town rises up out of the haze, a welcome watery oasis of ancient sunburnt buildings flanking the road. You give a prayer of thanks as you spy a gas station and pull in. The faded, decaying edifice looks abandoned, but an old man with a weather-beaten face limps out and pulls the hose out of the pump with a rusty squeak. You can still see curled remnants of a Texaco decal on the pump as you tell the man to fill it up. Across the street, beyond the blinding sun and shimmering veil of heat, you see signs of occasional movement, which sometimes resolve themselves into a human form or vehicle. A bone-thin dog staggers across the street, tongue nearly sweeping the ground. You step out and nearly lose your breath as the air, thick as hot tar, buries you in its suffocating depth. You go over to the pop machine and buy a glass bottle of Coke for a quarter. Two doors down, there is a theater, but so many letters are missing from the marquee you can't read the title of the film. The old man finishes and wipes his hands with an oily rag before taking your money. As you pull out, you tap the brake briefly to avoid a bouncing tumbleweed. Within minutes, you are back out in the desert, leaving the town behind. In the rear-view mirror, you see the buildings dissolve into drab shimmering puddles, which dissipate in the dust and the haze. As the sun bleeds onto the horizon, the CD ends and the lights of a distant city glimmer in the darkness beyond."

Don't bury this Deadman!

Rotten Arsenal | Burleson, Texas United States | 08/20/2002

(5 out of 5 stars)

"I first saw these guys play in the backyard of a friend of mine in Fort Worth. Absolutely brilliant! I bought my CD that night.
It's haunting, relaxing, and gorgeous. If you want something that's not cookie cutter radio play, try this out!"