The Boston Globe describes Goldstein's songs as "..comic diatribes on neurotic love..."
Disappointment in love gets to be old hat in the hands of lesser practicioners of the art of
musical poetry. It has been home for a very long time for this troubador. He's adept at getting
an audience to see the capricious nature of the beast and why you'd better learn to laugh
through the tears. They're both there in his music. Always.
As the first swirling notes rise out of track one, "Refugee," my personal music video begins
rolling. Teddy will forgive me, I hope, for directing him to a slow-motion swagger, in time to
the crunchy, muscular power-chord strums. He turns slowly and faces the camera, and with a wounded heart but rugged visage, sings in a voice somewhere between Paul Simon, and Tom Cruise: "Well I don't want to be right this time / I just want to do what is right So I'm letting you go tonight / With some bad rhyme and reason for whys Like you were too good for me / And you showed me the man I'm not ready to be And as sad as it may seem / We're both better off alone than with me But I hope there's a homeland for the refugee Who is still out wandering I hope there's a homeland for the refugee Of love in me" The sentiments are genuine and affecting and beyond that, the production on "Refugee" renders it into a luscious piece of ear candy. There's Doug and Dan Petty on production
/keyboards/drum programming and guitars, respectively. It sounds like Tom as well and a
whole passel of Pettys -- about four or five more cousins. The steady sycopated shuffle of
the drum kit and the echoing lead guitar work make this track very radio-friendly. Goldstein is already a houshold word, especially in cetain Jewish homes, but this track
is going to spike the hell out of the name recognition. "Lucky in Love" has a poignancy that works through the sarcasm. Teddy's crisp acoustic guitar lament --the training at The Berklee School wasn't wasted -- makes it easy to see that
he's "Lucky in Love" …NOT. I've never known anything but good love / I've never had someone I love say "good-bye" And I've never known anyone / Who's ever known anyone Who's even known anyone, who's known anyone / That's died. But they sing about bad love / Down at my local music club But I just can't relate to those sad songs / Cause for me love's been great. "499" is an address back in Teddy's old home town in PA. The first time I heard this reminiscence song,
I realized what a gifted writer and performer Teddy is. Again, with a crisp guitar attack, he sings: "Family and friends arrived in droves / Talking about traffic and comparing notes I just stood there at the door, collecting coats I'd toss them on my sister's bed, hoping nothing had fallen out of them Kill the lights and head out into the evening ahead There were all these faces I'd never seen But I'll be damned how they all knew me / Claiming we'd met back in '73 There comes a point in the lyrics where visitors are asking him how he's doing. He doesn't actually
sing the response… he acts it. There's an imperceptible, implied shrug as he states in the resigned, deadpan manner of a teenager still forced to conform the rhythms of adult life around him, responding, laconically, "fine…" He finishes with …Back then it was a simpler time … everyone I loved was alive We were living on 499 / You could live then on 499" The sweet dobro back up on "499" by Austin-relocated David Hamburger brings it home just how much we miss David around these parts. "Driving Song (How About Love)" is such a gorgeously evocative piece. When I'm not hitting the "back" button on the CD player for a replay of "Refugee," I turn to this one for a sweetly romantic drive down a highway with some old love, with yearning sweeping over me. As sighing lead guitars softly slide a late-afternoon amber wash over an inner landscape, we listen to: "How about a song in my heart / It's pumpin' through my shirt How about this bursting red sun / How about love… How about an open road / How about it's you that I hold How about there's nothing wrong / This is just how we get along How bout I love you again / How about we stop saying we're just friends How about no more pretend / how about love… How about calling every radio station that plays this genre and begging for them to play "Driving Song?" This is a very auspicious time for one Teddy Goldstein. Love Lot will finally bring him the recognition he deserves. --Richard Cuccaro
Open Book Out of Time North River Music
Open Book is the duo of Michele Rubin and Rich Gedney. This debut CD is testimony for
everyone, who knew, from the first time their sound made contact with our aural faculties --
These people really know how to make music.
I was tipped off by respected musician, Dan Bonis, about Open Book about a year and a half ago.
"Go see them," he said. I got to hear Rick first, backing for a bunch of people at a benefit, on a
collection of instruments -- plus backing vocals. At this point, I was very eager to hear Michelle.
She didn't disappoint. A question formed in my mind and was answered immediately.
What happens when you give a folk musician a Stradivarius? Michele's voice is like a bow being
drawn across finely tuned strings.
Track one, the title song "Out of Time," provides Open Book with the first descriptive example of their name.
If it wasn't so cornball, they could even have called themselves "Open Heart." Michele sings:
"You throw your coat across the back of my chair…
You throw a glance around the room…
You sit beside me like you were already there…
And then you smile.
…And I've seen that look before you run away…
And I've seen how hard you've tried to ride it out.
And I don't know how far you've come only to run away…
…and you give up long before you get to start the test…
You're out of time."
The tracks that follow continue the pattern of getting to the heart of the feelings passing from
one caring person to another.
Rich Gedney's soft, confident vocals remind me of Peter Yarrow. On "Falling," he sings:
"Here it comes again / I'm falling, falling
I'm weightless on the wind,… I'm swirling to the ground
…You'd think that after all these years, I would recognize
False responsibility, in confident disguise
Carring the burden of a weight that is not mine
I'm looking down, I never see the sign
Codependence, anyone?
My favorite Rich Gedney track is "Minstrel." The softness of his vocals contrasts
perfectly with the snarling lead guitar work of producer Billy Masters. Lost loveagain makes its appearance: And the minstrel sings his loneliness Remembering those days when love was life And now they're gone and so…the minstrel plays The accordion of Rad Lorcovic provides just the right touch of reminiscence. To a more upbeat tempo on "If You Knew Me," Michele works in counterpoint to the disappointment of having a lover not see her: Now that I've stopped trying to explain will you finally hear? Now that I've stopped waiting for you will you reappear? And if you knew me at all you would be here And if you knew me at all you would know love is not fear Overall, the musicianship runs like liquid gold through this entire auspicious debut. Hearing the voices of Rick and Michele weave through this set of elegant melodies is an enormous treat. Enough cannot be said about the production work of Billy Masters, already my favorite
lead guitarist for singer/songwriters, I've seen him back Richard Shindell, Cry, Cry, Cry, Suzanne Vega, Bob Hillman and a few others I can't think, of right now. He provides brilliant lead guitar work and just the right atmoshpheric effects for Rick and Michele. We can all be grateful and look for more from Billy in the future. This is truly a CD worth owning. There'll be more about Rick and Michele in next month's Acoustic Live. They're our cover feature! --RC