I Can’t Run
Love Is Murder
Bleu’s early years were spent focused on sports rather than music. He picked up a guitar for the first time during his college years, learned a few chords and his future was set. Bleu soon discovered that some of his favorite musical acts – Robert Earl Keen, Radney Foster, Uncle Tupelo – shared a common thread: Lloyd Maines either produced or played steel guitar on their recordings. A short time later, using a tape player in his dorm room, Bleu made guitar/vocal demos of some of his songs and sent the tape to Maines. Quickly recognizing the raw talent on that homemade cassette tape, Maines contacted Bleu and ultimately became his producer. The pairing made two records together – Southland and The Band Plays On – and Bleu credits Maines with giving him his start in the music business.
Edmondson’s lyrics convey a worldly perspective of one who has lived a life balanced on the edge – of success and failure, love and hate, elation and despair – with his trademark grit and unselfconscious vulnerability intact. There is no sugar-coating in his songs; he simply calls it like he sees it.
His men are flawed, with the brooding darkness of someone who has loved, lied and lost but for reason untold, repeats his mistakes time and again; and they are also vulnerable, with a desolate loneliness of someone who has been loved, been lied to and been left behind. Sometimes they are scared little boys, strangers to themselves and mysteries to those around them. But at the end of the day, they love a good party.
The women in Edmondson’s songs are innocent in one moment, insincere in the next, and unable to love the man who is willing to give them his heart. They dance, they cry, they lose faith, they scream, and they love and hate interchangeably. They are omnipresent, sometimes appearing as a barefoot angel sent to save the lost souls living life on the outside, or other times as a past-her-prime party girl who still has the boys fighting for her attention – and anything else she might surrender.
The couples he writes of lose their minds, quench each other’s thirsts, lie and fail to keep their promises; they fear, they take chances and through it all they love, with an urgent intensity that speaks to the desperation in their lives.
Edmondson also knows how to crank up the amps and throw down hard. From the ‘take no prisoners’ Springsteen-esque “I’m Still Here” to the unofficial party anthem of Dallas’ Greenville Avenue, “Riot Night,” the hometown-boy roots-rocker is not afraid to show off his chops. His raucous live show has earned him street cred and respect among his fans as well as his musical co-horts throughout Texas, a state that can lay claim to more than its fair share of the musical talent gene pool.
The celebrations are never ending – filled with twilight strollers, rock-n-rollers, young lovers and jesters, and always a few girls dancing on the bars in crowded beer joints. But even in the midst of the fun, there are suggestions of unforeseen dangers lurking nearby, with poetic references to “suicide doors” on a “blood red” car, and a fair warning not to “stray too far.”MANAGEMENT
Greg Henry and Associates, LLC
Justin Pollard for Vinyl Wave Music Group
Tony Castle at Tone Dock Studio in Nashville TN
Engineered and Recorded by
Brown Recluse Studio in Austin TX
Eric Conn at Independent Mastering in Nashville TN
Nate Coon drums and percussion
George Reiff bass
Michael Ramos keys B3 organ string arrangement and background vocals
Brad Rice electric guitar
Brett Danaher acoustic and electric guitars
Cody Braun harmonica