Full Circle Nightmare

The leaping chorus of Exile Rag’s hysterical country-rock, Jon Spencer-ish juke-joint holler of Belmont (One Trick Pony), the Dylan-indebted Slice & Delta Queen and fell-off-a-barstool theatre of Fake Magic Angel are vivacious vagabond story-songs with vim and character to spare. A colourful cast of wayward angels and thrill-seeking beatniks populates their fringes vividly.

Full Circle Nightmare gets its kicks constantly. It has more heft than, both narratively and sonically, Craft’s debut, Dolls of Highland. And, thoroughly steeped in a recognizable tradition of backcountry rollick as he is, Craft delivers a decidedly modern approach to a sound first popularized decades ago.

Throughout, the album's stories, turns of phrase, and underdog romanticism loom even larger than its melodies, but what leaves the biggest impression is that barely restrained revelry.

Each song is theatrically arranged with Craft belting like a Broadway star and the large band supporting his every word. The ebbs and flows become slightly predictable near the end of the album, but Craft does a terrific job of performing the songs, emoting and propelling his tales with vigour.

There's nothing remotely new here--and his hyper-ventilating yelp won't be for everyone--but it's a rollicking 40-minute ride. [Apr 2018, p.108]

There's a country edge to songs like "Slick Delta Queen," "Exile Rag" and the surprisingly sweet "Bridge City Rose," the latter making a nice break from the self-centred tone of "Fake Magic Angel" and the Lou Reed-bitterness of "Gold Calf Moan." [Mar 2018, p.24]

There are moments when Craft's melodies don't punch quite so hard as his striking, road-less0trodden imagery. [Mar 2018, p.90]

On the whole, though, the women Craft expends so much breath obsessing over drift in and out of his songs like cardboard cutouts from a bygone era, there to be lusted after and then blamed when they don’t fit into his fantasy.