Phantom Tollbooth

Tim Lee's  newest album, Concrete Dog, has a simple, poetic country rock feel to it. Rockin' as anything when it needs to be, kinda cruisin' pure and easy when the feeling's right. Familiar, twangy, jangley. A couple of good words might be comfortable and real. Listening you get the idea that Tim Lee's music isn't trying to pretend to be anyhting other than what it is.

It is not power pop. Not that there is a thing wrong with power pop, but like any genre box, that label could spell death for Concrete Dog. Think more Byrds meet Dwight Twilley than say a band like The Knack. It ranks with Chris Stamey, Mitch Easter and even Alex Chilton and, dare we say, The Rolling Stones circa Exiles.

Written largely with his wife, bassist Susan Bauer, and featuring Lee's weary everyman's vocals, the opening title track immediately brings thoughts of Mark Heard. It does continue the H-word. "Get Up, Get Up" urges us to move-musically and lyrically. With its phased echoy vocals, "Threw It Away" laments past actions, but explains how he is not holding on the past. 

Concrete Dog will grow on you because musically something for everyone. It is loaded with any moods and layers of meaning and enjoyment.

Bob Felberg