Search - Greg Connors :: Here, There and Anymore

Joseph Arthur, who produced and collaborated with Greg on his new album ?Here, There, and Anymore?, submitted the following review to a major music magazine: ?I first met Greg Connors years ago living in Atlanta. He worked at my favorite burrito joint and I ate there five days a week, as it was near the guitar shop I worked at and you could eat enough to make you sick for less than five bucks. After months of seeing each other, our conversations evolved beyond the realm of which kind of salsa and how much guacamole into more interesting topics, like women, speed, and the Velvet Underground. A friendship was formed and soon we became each others support and inspiration. Years doing what years do, I hadn?t seen or heard from Greg in a while until last year, when I got a cassette in the mail with typically illegible chicken scrawl that I recognized at once as the markings from my long-lost pal. I invited him to my place in Brooklyn and made it my mission to record him in a fashion which people could understand. Greg Connors is a great songwriter: a writer of words which find the silent space in between emotion, the typically indescribable places where you?re left on your own to dance with the shadows. Also, he?s just really very funny, like on the song ?Amasakist?, where the chorus goes: ?I?m a masochist / To me every day is a good one.? But usually his lines are denser, like bulletin boards full of post-it notes where you wrote emotions you forgot to feel: ?Now and these days / I?m trying to hold up / my own head myself / Without the incriminating way / I think you feel / Being my puppeteer, from ?Anymore?, or ?Rusted colander under thoughts / Mingling somewhere between us?, from ?She?s Talented.? The other striking thing about Greg is the way these often obscure lines are delivered with a natural ease, equal parts dry wit and emotion. They devastate with a smile but never is he joking. ?We?re on our way / And disappearing / The contrast gave in to regards?, from ?Regards.? Its often heart-breaking stuff sung from a voice that?s been dragging behind you for years, rolling over pavement, stone and regret: ?You?re pushing again / For that final start / Isn?t it a lot like / Changing lightbulbs in the dark.?