Lou Bond
Lou Bond
Rating: 3.5/5.0
Label: Stax Records
Before Jack Johnson and John Mayer- there was Lou Bond. Haven’t heard of him? That’s probably because his short-lived career was an already an obscure one to begin with. Released on the decreasingly popular Memphis R&B label Stax during the its near-bankrupt years in the mid-’70s, Bond’s career inexplicably dissipated after he put out his only record. This remastered reissue offers a crisp, polished sound and a slew of forgotten bonus tracks, but most importantly, flicks back on the spotlight that had previously illuminated Bond for only a fleeting moment.
Bond’s self-titled album defies mass appeal and calls for it all at once. The folky singer-songwriter arrangements, complete with Bond’s soulful, small-town croon and a lush backing orchestra combine such distinctly familiar elements into an accessible style of its own. Imagine a John Denver album with a prominently urban sway to get an idea of Bond’s sound. “Let Me Into Your Life” is a perfect example; Bond plucks and strums his nylon-stringed guitar with somber, backwoods ease, while his intermittent orchestra alternates between classical ecstasy and dreary metro hopefulness. The icing, of course, is Bond’s versatile voice, a dominating presence that shifts through multiple tones and mannerisms in any given verse, from whimsical falsetto to brassy vibrato to soulful howling.
The album’s R&B tracks toss a refreshing dynamic into the mix. Bond’s singer-songwriter mentality contrasts nicely with his orchestral backings. His music holds its own territorial niche just as balladeers like Barry Manilow and Burt Bacharach have. Except that even those powerhouse artists never concocted anything as political as “Why Must Our Eyes Always Be Turned Backwards.” Bond croons, “This time is Pakistan and India/ Tell ya that they’re at each other’s throats again/ North and South Vietnam, will they ever agree?/ Unemployment rates are high/ Worldwide people are hungry.” One can only wonder how this artist would have interpreted the last 30 years of turmoil and globalization into his music.
If there is any fault to the record, it’s that the bonus tracks pad the album with an extra 20 minutes that fail to live up to the fragile would-be closer “Come on Snob.” “I’m For You” lacks the substance and hook of previous R&B tracks, and turns annoyingly repetitive. “Thousand Miles” is pleasantly mediocre, but as track nine out of 10, it’s a mere reminder that the album hit its climax four songs ago. The closing song, “Jr. Thang / Why Must Our Eyes Always Be Turned Backward,” is a hokey rendition of the aforementioned original. Its sped-up tempo cheapens Bond’s political messages, as he sings with upbeat confidence and haste rather than heart and awareness. Bonus tracks aside, Lou Bond makes for a poignant and encompassing hello and goodbye to an unfortunately forgotten artist.
by Jory Spadea
