FROM MOJO: '5 STARS... SUPERB FIFTH ALBUM FROM VIRGINIA'S BEST KEPT SECRET.... Why Paul Curreri is not better known is a mystery, but if it is this fifth album that brings him the attention he deserves, that's no bad thing; his talent has had time to mellow and ripen, but these songs still sparkle like stars on a cold night. On the one hand, Curreri plays six-stringed blues with a dexterity that puts him in line with John Fahey and Davy Graham. On the other, his rough-brushed voice, like his lyrics, is unaffected and romantic - as well as some great swearing, there is stamping and banging, and a filthy, red-eyed opening track. With his instinctive, sensual gift for melody, Curreri's songs are saturated in colour and feeling, the sonic equivalent of William Eggleston's photography. Simple, yes, but you just can't get enough of it.' -- MOJO 'A riveting trip, his best yet. 4 STARS' -- Uncut 'Truly, this is a beautifully crafted record, a solid sonic eruption, psych-folk of earthly dimensions.' -- London Calling 'A dark and intimidating sonic assault on the mind... a lyrical master class. Paul is a true avant-garde Americana poet -- a deeper and darker hybrid of John Cooper Clarke and Beck -- and one heckuva guitarist.' -- Maverick 'Stands as modern American poetry. Everything from Lou Reed to Mojo Nixon, all combined into some funky blues that would make even Tom Waits' mouth water.' -- Emerald City 'The Velvet Rut comes on edgy and dirty... crazy intricate, crashing, dancing fingerpicking that simply makes sense in context with his themes. No serious music lover should go without a copy. Curreri is laying a long respected legacy as a songwriter.' -- Stave Magazine 'Curreri seems undaunted and, at moments, nearly unhinged. Something dark and beastly sure of itself, The Velvet Rut shows no sign of a rut for the songwriter; rather, Curreri seems to encounter more treasure the deeper he digs.' -- C-ville Weekly 'Words flow off his parched tongue like honey... his surreal imagination takes flight like a French director of the nouvelle vague. Do yourself a favour. Beg, borrow, or preferably buy this wonderful album.' -- Subba-Cultcha * * * * * Paul Curreri, the thirty-one-year-old guitarist and songwriter from Charlottesville, Virginia, unveils his fifth album, The Velvet Rut, this November on England's Tin Angel Records & Brooklyn's City Salvage Records. "The beer fall empty and I fill up with fire. I'm walking toward your mouth repeating my mantra." Goddamn. The Velvet Rut is off and running; and the sheer volume, guitar drive, & tangible had-it-up-to-here contained in this first track sounds nothing short of intimidating. Internationally acclaimed as a songwriter, guitarist, and spirited live performer ("Curreri brings a renewed eloquence to the medium," - The New Yorker) he now adds producer to the credits. The Velvet Rut is a sonic eruption, and Curreri played every note on every instrument. The record is certainly unruly - boots stamp, telecasters telecast, acoustics pick so quietly they border on aggressive, and pianos make noises weirder than they were ever supposed to. As a guitar player, Curreri is renowned ("Spontaneous and poetic" - The Independent-UK / "You half-expect tears to appear on the face of his instrument." - Oxford Town / "Furrowing a sonic field few musicians would be admitted to." - Americana-UK). Here, in the layering - or in the choices to not layer - his playing twists & extends itself, revealing further meaning in these dynamically badass narratives. Lyrically, he goes. Climbing from the bath, an ugly angel's natty wings splash water against the window, "flooding dead mosquitoes and worse things." Of the dream-murdering sloth in "Fat Killer At Dawn," Curreri venomously barks: "[you] shoulda thought at church... skipped some class... smoked up in the bathroom stall... kicked that asshole's ass." Even in the calm, there's movement - from "A Song On Robbing:" "This afternoon is like the others. / Nothing'll blow up or collapse. / Between waking up and lying down, / that's a nasty gap." Characters seem to jump between songs. Pearls of insight emerge and then dive back into the fold. Everything snarls. "It was an odd year," he says. At times a veritable rotisserie of anger, jealousy, loneliness, and cursing regret, The Velvet Rut wouldn't be the background music of choice for a dinner with mom. Raised in Richmond, Virginia, Paul now makes his home in Charlottesville with songwriter / guitarist Devon Sproule (the two were married in May of 2005). Curreri grew up playing music but ended up enrolling at Rhode Island School of Design to pursue painting and film. "My movies were okay, I guess," he said. By the time Paul graduated from RISD, he'd composed over 200 songs on guitar and piano. Turning down an editing job at MTV he set to work carving out a life as a musician. His acclaimed debut for City Salvage Records, From Long Gones To Hawkmoth, was released in 2002 ("Curreri is full of taste and truth, poetic jewels." - 9X Magazine). A triumphant follow-up, 2003's Songs For Devon Sproule - produced by Kelly Joe Phelps - was hailed by Vintage Guitar Magazine as "one of the very finest records in awhile. And, I don't mean just in this genre. I mean, any genre." 2004's The Spirit of the Staircase found Curreri continuing to shoulder into new lyrical and musical terrain ("Curreri has sculpted a direction of his own. Dexterous guitar work and hushed insight, full of soul and originality. ' - Americana-UK). With clarity of vision, & astoundingly visceral playing & singing, 2006's Are You Going To Paul Curreri captured him stretching out in front of a live audience, electric and rocking. UK PR CONTACT: firstname.lastname@example.org.UK 07817437210 US PR CONTACT: email@example.com 912-292-0927.
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