Album Notes

Jim Dunleavy has been playing folk, rock, and blues for many years. He's played guitar and harmonica with some big names, but he's not the type to mention them here. This is what a few people have said about Jim:

"Master folk musician..."
--David Amram

"The truth isn't easy to find. It usually takes a lot of digging to get at. But I've heard so many lies about music over the years, I can usually smell the truth when I get close.

You've heard the lies, usually from some publicist's collagen-injected lips, whispering sweet nothings over the phone. Things like, this band is going to be big!

And, Jesus, God, it's always about size.

And so here is a recording of truth in the form of 14 songs, from the streets and alleyways and dank bars of Lowell, Mass., a whole lot of miles from where they tally numbers, track charts, and pass out platinum records.

I have never asked Jim Dunleavy about these songs. Often, in liner notes, the writer interviews the artist, then peppers the notes with tidbits gleaned in conversation.

I see Jim almost everyday, but I never ask. Don't have to. Don't need to. Because these are straight forward songs, crafted from real-life. Some of them are just Jim and his acoustic guitar. He blows harp on some of them. He sings on all of 'em. And there's a cool little band that backs him up on some cuts.

I know some people he's listened to over the years. He's old enough to have seen the original blues greats pass through the Cambridge folk clubs before they died off. He loves the way Van Morrison works a lyric, sometimes barking, sometimes doing a taffy-pull with a phrase. Loves Ramblin' Jack Elliott.

And Bob Dylan? Well look. There's one thing you do when you compare a fellow with Bob Dylan and that's get the guy in trouble. But I will tell you this. One of the songs on the record (here's a hint-the band plays on it) could have been pulled right off Dylan's "Time Out of Mind." But the truth is Jim recorded them long before Dylan's album arrived. I was there at the sessions.

And one thing I remember is watching Jim drift into the studio when things were finally ready to roll. There were local players assembled to back him, including members of The Shods, a rock band that should be the subject of some New York publicist's whisperings. But that's another story.

So when Jim drifts into the recording booth cramped with drums and amps and sweaty people, he's clearly in charge. He's ambling in, with his guitar slung over his shoulder, and everybody settles into play. Which is really kind of funny if you know Jim.

And I don't know how much they went over these songs in advance (I never asked Jim this, either). But they're clearly working out arrangements here, still, on the spot. Kevin Stevenson is pulling great guitar lines out of nowhere. It goes on like this for a few hours.
And during that time, and since, I've wondered about where these songs came from. And I imagine Jim sitting in some small apartment over a bar, hunched over a guitar, plucking notes out and scribbling words on a pad. It is well past midnight and a blur of noise wafts up from the bar's jukebox. And he does it again the next night, and the next.

And I imagine he's been to the "piney wood" and he knows all about ramblers and the homeless and hobo angels like Jack Kerouac. And I imagine this is all true because after listening to this CD, I can't imagine that Jim doesn't know exactly what he's talking about."

--David Perry,
Grammy nominated music critic
Lowell, MA