Thursday, February 18, 2010

The Rusty Razors

The Rusty Razors

Taken from the dregs and gutters of a sea worn shore town, The Rusty Razors tuned
their strings and voices in an attic room in Sellwood. They brought such raw stories
and energy to the session that grey afternoon in january we were dancin' tappin our feet like the rain on the roof. Their first song of the day "Midnight Train" spins a tale
of a lonesome man, a gambler, a drunk, and an outcast; George, hits the road to find
fortune. He is remembered in his old town but only as a ghost, a myth. "He sang out a tune"
to forget what he just left behind. "La-ta-da-da-da, la-ta-da-da-da"...and on and on.
The rest of this sordid story twists and winds through murder and knives. "A man says
'You won't be needin' this', George says 'I think otherwise.'" With blood on his hands
George sings again dancin' trough the night. The next tune was of very similar dark
qualities but brought a blues element to their style. Still the upbeat fast paced tempo
brought lyrics that spoke of "lakes of tears", "demons" and "fences", the remnants and
defenses of a broken, torn love affair. A traveler confused but faithful in dedication
to his fate. "What's a man to do?" They all echo out in chorus. The next tune grabbed that
country off beat shuffle and wrangled it with another story of a simple but desolate man.
Un-named and presumably unknown, the man was blind and subsequently challenges the audience.
"You're not blind, your just not looking hard enough." The third tune was a mix of a sea
shanty fiddle tune and an old standard "Drunken' Sailor". "What do you do with a drunken
sailor?" The Rusty Razors bring the call-response energy back to songwritting. Questions, and
answers string along through every song. Their music begs you to be engaged even if their
style can be hectic at times, allowing the pure moments of clarity and brilliance to really shine.
The raspy whiskey growl, the hands shuffling the beat, the clean clear mandolin altogether
turn your hands to fists, gripping full beer stiens pounding old board tables to the beat.

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