Seated naked in a tub of 90 percent alcohol, a head of curly hair full cum stains listening on a roll of blues while booze slips through the veins.
A bottle of gin and one with whisky is spooned in by a loving helping hand, this is the way to become more into the erratic stand that’s needed to write about a special release that totally needs the seeds.
The floor collapses under the weight of toxic liquor, making me and the tub fall down through the sky and mental illness. Luckily the bath lands on the bouncing cables of a telephone line, tip toeing out of it with a mouth full of foam and slime. Butt naked I try to vomit my thoughts of this music all over my chest, hoping it will dry up like a vest. First words are that this is genius, splattered body fluids drips between my legs on a police man’s head who walks down below. Sorry officer, this all belongs with the show! I might be intoxicated and naked but I’ve got the blues you see, the smelly real live one with all the dirt and wee. Heavenly inspired by these awesome stories by a certain David, who smells if booze a mile away and throws in adventurous stories for a hell of a good replay.
There is no point attempting to write a clever review for this album by David P Smith. Not that words do not exist, it’s just the man is a word smith of the highest order, able to connect the most illogical things and make them sound logical. I wanted to try to write a review in the style of him writing his lyrics but it’s just impossible. It would do no Justice to this man’s ability to rhyme, be extremely dirty and gritty in an adventurous poetic way. The only way is to raise a glass to his album and full it up with instant liver damage & drink it cheerfully.
His songs are like stories, cleverly written, intoxicated ones which might as well be created with veins pumped full whisky. This is the material of a real life persona, a lost cause and a misunderstood super intelligent genius that spread the word in such a way that no book writer or singer songwriter would be able to lie down and register. This man takes you on a ride in which it smells of dirt, gritty sweat, a mouth full of bad breath and the mind of a legend. You should do yourself a favor and read the lyrics while listening to these songs, yes, actual reading! As music is fine but this is literature set to the blues, this is high class madness without ignoring the filth of details, or the manic madness of a poetic imagination; totally an outsider in high brain level stimulants!