The Weekend Australian - Review - - Music - Ian Cuth­bert­son

YOU don’t get to your third full- length album of orig­i­nal songs with­out tal­ent, per­se­ver­ance and a fair amount of sup­port along the way. Karl Broadie had the kind of re­views for his first two CDs ( 2002’ s de­but Nowhere Now Here and 2005’ s Black Crow Callin’ ) that as­pir­ing singer- song­writ­ers can gen­er­ally only dream of. On the strength of One Mil­lion Emer­alds , I find it hard to see what the fuss is about. Broadie’s pri­mary in­flu­ence is Dylan, and his was a band­wagon I could never catch ei­ther. While I could see the ge­nius in him, I never could come at his hill­billy whine. Broadie’s voice is kind of lim­ited. A croak can be a good thing, even a great thing, but with­out variety, with­out dif­fer­ent char­ac­ters in the voice, and in con­junc­tion with a bo­gus Amer­i­can ac­cent, it wears you down. That leaves his song­writ­ing, which fares bet­ter. I don’t hear the depth of Dylan or the clever word­play of con­tem­po­rary Josh Pyke, but Sun­day’s Bells is beau­ti­fully re­alised and Dear Natalie has a sweet, nos­tal­gic feel, made mag­i­cal by the lap steel gui­tar of Bill Cham­bers.

One Mil­lion Emer­alds Karl Broadie ABC/ Warner

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