Musicians

Liner Notes

I met him in the flesh briefly, only once, but man…do yourself a favor, please. Listen hard and often to this first batch of original songs by this guy Sid Brantley. More about our fearless hero momentarily but first, let’s clear up one issue at the outset…I'm not speaking of the doctor, father, husband, brother, son, deacon, turkey hunter/golfer. Yea, nonesuch…

I speak only of the blindingly creative poet-composer-singer-musician-philosopher rising in his fifth decade upon this planet from a cocoon of former lives. Herald the arrival of Sid Brantley, the Artist, for there shall be no other of such ilk.

Up there at Sid’s “altitude” (or “wavelength”), the brilliant songs function like a field hunter’s pocket dog-whistle. Either you hear and recognize the sound…instantly and viscerally…or it’s beyond your sensitivity and you probably never will. Until recently, I’d heard only fragments of these eclectic, literate, melodic, hilarious and deeply Spiritual songs years ago. I remember thinking, “This guy is packing The Deal.” Then a few weeks ago, he called me up out of the blue, asking me to listen and ponder on this first quiver of freshly hewn arrows.

“What can you say when your blessings abound?
When you deserve nothin’, but it’s abundance you’ve found
You just bow your old head with your hands to your face
And thank God for his mercy, forgiveness and grace”

Hmmm…now here’s a cat who knows the triumphs and travails of this mortal existence.

The further into these waters I began to wade, the more I was lifted and carried away by the gentle, buoyant tide of Sid Brantley’s peculiar, homespun genius. Put simply, I was awestruck by this man’s exceptional and obliviously humble gifts. The songs just kept flowing out of him with such singular confidence, wit, diversity, power and panache-- both lyrically and melodically--I suddenly realized that the first work of this New Master had fulfilled all the promise and potential I’d subconsciously sensed long ago.

“This is right, this is real, to be respected, to be revered
Larger than life, casting out fear, to be protected, through blood and tear
As fragile as a feather and yet stronger than steel
This is love…"

Sidney is incessantly insightful about life’s humor & suffering; its isolation & ecstasy; its frustration & joy. He’s as uproariously perceptive about the dichotomy of human obsession (“I Hate Golf”) as he is subtly and tortuously accurate about the decline of the Traditional Family (“Six-Year-Old’s Nightmare”). He captures and uncorks the essence of the collective Baby-Boomer Boyhood at “The Barber Shop.”

“Life was simple back then
Through naïve eyes of a compliant child
No serious worries, no lies to deny...”

He’s mastered what Van Morrison called the “high art of suffering,” like a medieval alchemist turning lead into gold, channeling the pain of his own parental separation anxiety into the chillingly gorgeous Latin-flavored ballad “Conchia.” The rest of his titles I temptingly leave to your own personal curiosities and private epiphanies. But Brantley’s themes and thoughts, his words and music, his methods and his means are so pure, so innocently unassuming and undiluted, that he has me on the verge of tears (from both mirth and sorrow) before I begin to contemplate how deftly he’s turned the trick.

Sid Brantley is only now emerging as if from a hidden rite of subterranean developmental “dormancy,” seemingly maturing overnight like some giant, primordial, Cicada crawling suddenly and majestically out onto the psychic landscape from beneath the “Kentucky Blue” of his native Land Between The Lakes. He moves compelled by unseen forces, surrendering himself utterly and completely to a brief, intense Summer of Song. Those giant multi-faceted eyes see all. Those gargantuan gossamer wings are beating feverishly and hypnotically at impossible speed, first Heavenward, then back against his chest and limbs with all of his might. The Sound is an instinctual, mystical, undulating, Prayer-Chant of Thanksgiving to The Maker with Brantley’s soul and spirit inextricably laced and woven around and through these ringing rhymes, layered harmonies, pulsating rhythms and rippling chordal inversions like the spiral DNA double helix found at the core of all living things. If you have an open heart, it will resonate in sympathetic vibration to Sidney’s Song.

“So now let me this promise make, that forward from this day
When winds will blow and storms roll in, your trust I can’t betray
For we are shielded from the evils offered of this world
Because our tie of ‘One’ is bound by no less than the Lord”

Since this breathtaking set is only the ‘prototype’ collection of his original tunes, I won’t project or presuppose what Brantley’s uncanny imagination may formulate for future musical reveries. It’s entirely possible that, when he hits full stride, the walls of my aging heart and the corridors of my tangled mind cannot withstand the intensity of his inspiration. But I’ll take my Rapture straight-up, please, whenever he’s ready.

Yo, Sidney…“Gee Golly Wow, Man”…you really are packing ’The Deal’ Go on now…just relax and follow-through. You’re on the green in one…

Doug Jones, 05 March, 2008

All Materials © 2003-2008 by Sid Brantley. All rights reserved.

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