uptempo acoustic guitar, retro keys, tribal-like kick, spoken lyrics,
Joel Beaupre solo effort: words/music/recording
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My critique of Nashville as the new L.A. of false dreams of stardom.
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Here comes a Belmont kid with skinny jeans, ironic mustache and rose colored scheme. Aviators and a star-studded aura, under the brim of a thrift-store fedora. Just another tone deaf day in music shitty. He wants to lead the human race, line 'em up around the corner on Elliston place, but he winds up between parked cars - can't hold his whiskey. Nobody knows how the tune goes. I went to the lint trap called Cafe Coco, because once and awhile you find a quarter you know? Be all that you can be spoon fed. And there I got totally lost among the totally lost. Vandy dandies. And it confirmed all my suspicions. Your dealer's at the Schermerhorn, my dealer's at the Springwater. So we are really all "the same" - peace. Nobody knows how the tune goes. All the way from L.A., a little miss boots with her Takamine guitar. Somebody told her she had an old soul, so she's been keeping a journal. The same one she's had since high school. Nobody knows how the tune goes, not even me. The song "of Utopia"
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