The Ones That Look the Weirdest Taste the Best continues at #6 on the Jambands.Com chart.
And this review just in from Rip Rense in LA:
David Gans does not come to singing by effortless grace, by his own admission. He has worked long and hard, and paid a lot of performance dues, to become the singer and player that he is today. But a hell of a lot of artists do not sing like James Taylor or Judy Collins, so c’est la vie. The ones that sound the weirdest sometimes taste the best.
What longtime (eons!) Grateful Dead Hour host Gans has succeeded at doing, through perseverance, love, and labor—and, yes, talent—is becoming a highly ambitious songwriter and accomplished guitarist. Both are in evidence on this, his finest recorded hour (give or take a minute.) The Ones That Look The Weirdest Taste the Best is a friendly and imaginative production with a decidedly acoustic “real music†feel, courtesy of a few crackerjack multi-instrumentalists (Consider Andy Goessling’s arsenal alone: autoharp, banjo, guitar, ukulele, clarinet, bass clarinet, 12-string, steel guitar, barisax, vocals).
Splendidly recorded, lovingly arranged, carefully crafted, the eleven songs on the album are like family members: recognizable as part of the same gene pool, but each with a distinct presence. This stylistic variety—from whimsical to heartfelt to sarcastic to angry—is highly laudable, and all too rare among contemporary artists. The banjo-fiddle-driven “Shove in the Right Direction†has a hook that the Grateful Dead might have enjoyed grooving on (or The Dead might still?), “The Bounty of the County,†a paean to produce (!), is charming, and “Down to Eugene is a jaunty, if a bit late, anthem for traveling Deadheads.
Gans bites dog: the songwriter does right by lyricist Robert Hunter on “Like a Dog,” a wonderfully bilious piece, then waxes optimistic on “It’s Gonna Get Better (though this cynic remains unconvinced). “An American Family†is perhaps the most intriguing lyric on the record, as Gans somewhat bitterly explores the attitudes of three family members beset by vagaries and disenchantments of the 21st century. (“When my optimism falters, I just turn on channel 2/ to wallow in nostalgia for a life I never knew.†Ouch.) There is also a comparative rarity among balladeers: a nice instrumental, “Echolalia,†but for my money, what there is of it, the standout track here is a forthright denunciation of the gawd-fearing, self-righteous poisoning of so much of contemporary discourse and life. “Save Us From The Saved†says everything that needs to be said about the worldwide cancer of religious zeal. Pointed, witty, bitter, true. An important song. The Dixie Chicks should cover it, and maybe one or two others on this disc.  Â