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Moock probes depths of melancholy in latest offering

Alastair Moock's latest CD, "A Life I Never Had," is the third in a lineup of impressive musical releases that have spanned a half-decade. Moock, a Boston native since 1995, is beginning to branch out of his northeast touring routine and share the wealth of his folk sensibilities with the rest of America. And the country is better for it. Expect him focusing in on covering the Midwest with upcoming performances.

"A Life I Never Had" opens with "Somewhere Elseward Bound," a successfully bittersweet transition from the upbeat opening of "Me and My Friend" from his debut release "Walking Sounds." The author who once penned "We just want to walk, me and my friend" now finds himself walking alone.

Nearing 30, Moock is aging in the best way possible (at least in terms of songwriting maturity), becoming an emerging solitary boy walking through the world. Becoming man, he's the mythological Robert Johnson figure. Moock's music has always felt old soul. Even when there are backing organ, accordion and drums, it seems that all that exists is Moock's guitar and voice.

Inevitably life leads to loss and loss is at the heart of Moock's writing on "A Life I Never Had." The past sprightly Moock is now seeing Ray Charles' visions of the bottom of a river as appealing. On the aptly titled "Bottom of a River," we hear Moock's blues side, a blue the color of night's ocean. Of course, we aren't offered the stunningly harsh realism of the aforementioned Sir Charles, but Moock does prove that for a white boy he does it all. Or has the guts to try it all.

Liner Notes

Artist: Alastair Moock
Album: "A Life I Never had"

Grade: B+

But it's when Moock gets out of his maudlin moods and gets into his mandolin moods that he is at his best. "My Blue Eyed Jane" comes across as effortless art, more polished than Pollock, but refreshingly light and airy, in a word (or three) -- a musical gem.

"Smoke and Flowers" shows that jack-of-all-trades Moock can trade licks with anyone -- blues, folk, country. But the resulting track is somewhat forgettable, like a rushed Kerouac novel, leaving us longing for his usual "Visions of Cody

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