Even if you’re not a fan of folk, singer-songwriter, or even country-time ballads, Richard Buckner has that innate ability to still connect to your inner child, the one that secretly wants to be rocked to sleep. This may be because Buckner has never fit into any given mold within the roots rock, café strumming mold that would sit closer to Mark Kozalek or Jeff Buckley in a store’s CD rack.
Now on his 6th studio album, maple flavored melodies cascade over slide guitar that acts more like a harmonizing back vocal than a part of the instrument ensemble. He provides a 180 degree alternative to lip synched diva flops on late night TV, offering up a welcome escape from the confines of their screen lit rooms in exchange for a warmer spot at a smoky bar. This is real skin and bones, bleeding with honesty and story lines that travel the roads from San Francisco to Austin. He explores the concept of time with the stillness of a stark piano key or the unavoidable obstacles in life that often lead to the evolvement of one’s soul.
Dents and Shells celebrates all the imperfections in life and in humanity, accented with the boom of a native Indian drum or bittersweet lullaby. It’s the perfect excuse to take a walk in the first big snow of the season and just breath.
