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In fact, it should be said that Bohemians music is wonderfully romantic in general—there’s a sophistication and sensuality to the songs here that fosters a mood of candlelit closeness and yearning desire. Buy this CD
If you explore the music scene of any major city, you’ll find a wide variety of talent: local favorites, hard-working bar bands, singer-songwriters with devoted followings, etc. They’re the acts whose names appear regularly in the weekend calendar section, the ones who get the press. But most cities also have talented fringe artists who simply don’t get much attention because they keep a low profile and don’t perform often. I say all this by way of introducing the new CD by the Bohemians, a quiet little treasure of a St. Louis band deserving of a larger audience. Led by classy singer-songwriter Bob Bailey, the Bohemians have actually been around for a number of years in various lineups, but they never garnered much attention. So it’s to Bailey’s credit that he has put together the band’s excellent second recording, Through the Looking Glass. The disc defies easy categorization, yet it’s a tuneful, mood-setting delight. From the casual loping rhythm of the opening “Act of Contrition,” which reveals Bailey as owner of one of the most soothing, hushed baritones around, to the poignant “You Can Call Me Van Gogh” (an evocative tune certainly deserving of a place in some future Van Gogh film as much as Don McClean’s “Vincent”), to the infectious, sing-along folk/bop of “St. Elmo,” this album sets up a mood of multicultural, twilight-evoking, jazzy sophistication laced with whimsy—and sustains it effortlessly for all 11 tracks. The primary weapons in Bailey’s artistic arsenal are a trademark alternate-tuning approach (a lá Joni Mitchell, but more immediately accessible) which makes his guitar chords sound more exotic and expansive; that calming, often sensual voice; and some effortless melodies that slowly insinuate themselves into your psyche. “This time I’m gonna go a little deeper/Next time I’m gonna go a little higher,” sings Bailey in a husky tone on the engaging “One Saturday Night,” making an artistic promise that he pretty much keeps from song to song. On the whimsically titled “The Tiger, the Moon and the Oysters,” you get a good example of another Bailey trademark—starting a song with voice and minimal accompaniment, then launching into full instrumentation, often with an odd time signature. Sterling lead guitar is provided here by Lenny Mink, and the whole tune has a wonderfully organic flow to it. The feather-brush percussion of veteran St. Louis drummer Jack Tartar is also a tremendous asset to the Bohemians; you can hear it on such graceful tunes as “Just Want You to Notice.” Somewhere, sometime, a pair of lovers are gonna do an intimate dance to this number, and the accurately named “Tango Lomba” will also allow them to really work those dress shoes. In fact, it should be said that Bohemians music is wonderfully romantic in general—there’s a sophistication and sensuality to the songs here that fosters a mood of candlelit closeness and yearning desire. Bailey’s songs have few obvious antecedents (although I couldn’t help thinking that “Jamboree” sounded like some spirited collaboration between Santana and David Crosby at his best). But there’s a warmth and vitality to his music that rewards patient listening, and a genuine elegance that is all too rare these days. It’s worth traveling Through the Looking Glass when the world the Bohemians let you see is so filled with grace and lost charms. www.bohemiansongs.com
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