James Mac – Life is Good
This album slipped my mind. Not that I didn’t like what I heard. Rather it was filed away and forgotten long before I ever gave it a listen. All I can say is, “Whoops!”
Due to this egregious error, the artist himself finally asked
me what’s up. We did a little cat & mouse and I played the ever-willing salesman;
telling him that I was getting closer to the delivery date and that it was only
a matter of time before a tangible deliverable appeared. Finally, things came
to a head, and I had to explain – unstintingly in painful detail – all the strife
in my life. What I didn’t know at the
time was that his album would have provided the happy balance I so desperately needed
-- if only I had stopped, dropped and spun the disc.
I must add that in addition to his talents, James Mac is a
nice, patient guy with level-headed advice. Who would have thought that I could
have just put this album on for a little sunny western comfort in the confines
of my chilly blizzard-blasted abode? I’m
glad he made the album, sent me a copy on his nickel and eventually forced the
issue -- by writing me and getting my lazy pen out of bed and on its way to the
workroom.
Then again, this figurative talk is deceptive as I too play my own virtual instrument: That would be a writer’s keyboard. Once he put the fire under me butt, I had it booted up. With its happily distractive verve lifting me up, life was good again.
So that I’ve put forth proper due diligence in recompense for his charitable donation, I’d like to graciously show my gratitude by fussing over these selections while judiciously editorializing my epistles:
“The Intruder” is not light of foot. Actually, it clings and
clangs, and like Borat in an antique shop; it breaks away
from relics. In spite of this, the guitars come out of the debacle in pristine
condition. Not to mention, Damien Masterson’s harmonica negotiates the broken
glass without causing further hemorrhaging. If anything, the collaboration from
his colleague coagulates this cut. After
that last display, you’d expect an exodus and some angry notes
“She’s
What can I say; the title track is better than good. It’s
great! In it, he embodies a whole different class of shredder. In this case, the
tonic contains Eric Johnson with a splash of Steve Morse. The fact Mac can
duplicate such difficult arrangements, provide his own twist on them and then
some; makes him one of the best. Also for
the record [no pun intended], Masterson makes an impressive last-ditch appearance
on this one as well as the next.
Without time to blink or point to the no smoking sign, “My Blues Have Attitude” shows that Mac is not afraid to light up in the lounge. Utilizing the smokiest of tactics, he gains respect and changes the rules. The American Heart Association might have something to say about his smoldering, sedentary behavior. While it’s mostly laidback, he does take a couple laps around the sofa with an unabashed piano.
The country western couple in “Nashville Swingers” moves so well that Bud and Sissy’s chemistry pales in comparison. With synthetic drums, I can imagine Rerun from What’s Happening doing his trademark slaphappy dance in the foreground.
“Thanksgiving” is a holiday with little restraint. In its
leisure, it gorges itself and then reclines. Like John Belushi
in that classic Chiclets skit, he waddles as he dawdles. Eventually, that button above the zipper pops and let’s all the tiny-sized
goodies out.
The blissful pit that holds “The Raptor” is inconspicuous at
first. As we are taken deeper into the foliage, it’s apparent there are hairy
riffs lurking in the shadows. If you allow their wiles to call you deeper into
the brush; you just might not come out. At
a bare minimum, something will get repeatedly nicked or potentially ripped --
to the iPod.
When asked, “Who’d a Funk It”, I’ll concede that this track
is stankier than the rest. Still, the grimy pad gets
much posher after its
gratuitously clichéd intro is chucked into the hamper. In particular, there is an awesome rapid-fire scale-climber on the keys
that would certainly pique the interests of Stevie Wonder.
Next, it must be fate as “The Mystic” can either see the
future or read my thoughts. From the get go, it satisfied my every whim; though
I was mostly awed by its symphonic parts. I even got to nosh on couple tricky
time signatures. He then goes on to impersonate Steve Howe before he jumps the
ditch into the pretentious realm of Jimi Hendrix.
When it ceases to exist, I yearn for more of its fortune-telling forecast. In hindsight, the soothsayer is easily one
of my favorites due to its protests on diversity awareness.
Keeping in step with a series of fabulous tracks, “Whine
Country” should give the union no rationale to complain. Heading into the eleventh hour, his music is neither nebulous nor is it
overworked.
“O.S.B (Orange Sunshine Boogie)” could be a Kool-Aid flavor.
In its tart and powdery mix, an unnatural sweetener must have been included in
its complex. This is so condensed; I recommend diluting it first. Then again,
if you’re into this kind of stuff, well then turn it up. On second thought, that heady batch was exceptional. It’s just that
you’re not ready for such potent licks once you’ve gotten along so swimmingly
with its peers. While I prefer the wall of sound, the earlier numbers lulled me
into some kind of dreamy state. Once I took a whiff of these smelling salts, I
was wide awake.
“Bad JuJu” is medicinal. Its
purpose is mainly to calm that inner storm. It does the trick and quells the
hangover. To let you in on a little
secret, this pick-me-up revitalizes the patient listener.
“Funky Apples” sounds terrible on the surface. Actually,
it’s better than the sourest batch of Laffy Taffy. I
could eat this peach for hours. Later in the process, it rides in the front row
of Red Hot Chili Pepper’s “Love Rollercoaster”. Speaking of which, Jimmy Mac’s music is so happy-go-lucky that it seems
as if it’s on a perpetual merry-go-round. Cross my heart; it would be a great
soundtrack to a theme park. Between the root beer floats and cotton candy
stands, he provides Ferris Wheels, Tilt-A-Whirls, and that occasional high
thrill. This should guarantee that all enthusiasts will return.
Hopefully, Life is Good results in ticket sales because the
guy is a hard-worker, and I should reiterate that he’s quite decent to his
fans. So he deserves whatever patronage you bring him. Even if he’ll never be on
E! True Hollywood Story, he is the very definition of a genuine musician, and that’s
meant in every permutation of the term. However,
it would be most orthodox to call his music and demeanor kosher on Shabbat.
8.5/10