Tom Scudiero’s songs put the attention-getting, ironic lyrical twist normally found in punk over an almost deceptively upbeat, Americana base with highly artful results. At times, his stories have a shocking grimy darkness almost reminiscent of Tom Waitts.

On Songs Of Skid Row, Tom Scudiero and Johnny Bravo bring 15 excellent songs to life, many of them specific to Florida, along with a room full of fully drawn characters with tales of rusted potential and almost decadently dangerous foolishness too common to the state’s culture. Skid Row’s songs are a slice of life, a crazy, messed up one in almost every instance, with a way that will make listeners grateful for what’s normal in theirs.

“His Hair Don’t Move” is the story of the death of an alcoholic and the clash between his public image and reality. “She left me for a carney in Gibtown,” Scudiero sings in “Fair Linda (The Carney Song),” “He promised he’d give her the world, but the only thing that she ever got was a ride on the tilt-a whirl.”

In “Angels,” a story told by a homeless character living on the streets of St. Pete, he writes, “Blind Mary got raped last night. The cops told her she didn’t see a thing. Old Willie got rolled, they beat him pretty severe. Ask them if there’s angels round here.”

On “In These Parts” Tom Scudiero takes us to a land “off County Line Road, just outside of Dade City” where “Momma’s thinner than jailhouse soup” and “Daddy’s out back with a tank of propane, cooking up crystal meth, dancing in the rain.” “In these parts,” he sings, “folks do things a little different.”

In “A Child Is Born” he puts his trademark style to the story of Christ, while “River Roll On” stands out as a soothing lullaby of peace with the past and letting go.

“Two Kilos” tells the story of a smuggler on a drug run with “two kilos of cocaine, no radio, no lights.” “I think about my children, do they miss me tonight?” he sings “….I see the lights of Tampa, and I hope it goes alright.” “Twenty-One Days,” sets the thoughts of an American soldier in Iraq over an almost honky-tonk backdrop. “Iceman” brings a chilling fi rst-hand account of a death row inmate in the last 15 minutes before his execution. The poignant, shocking excellence of Tom Scudiero’s songwriting throughout the album can’t be described enough.

Visit www.tomscudiero.com for more information and MP3 excerpts.

 

By Frances Brennan