Bear in mind that the off-color comment was posted after I had replied in a reasonable way to his same sentiment on a different thread. My wife says the art of diplomacy is the ability to tell someone to screw-off and have them thank you when you're done.
Gee CrowBear, lots of animosity, eh?
Not to worry though; if you were the only one to talk to here, I'da been gone long ago, savvy?
As to the topic, Tony, how about if we review the review?
Obviously, Mr. Pollard hasn't been exposed to any but the music he heard on the Victrola growing up on a sharecrop holding in Arkansas. The lyrics in Mr. Black's song were too polysyllabic to ever penetrate the reviewers Piltdown cranium. And just because Mr. Phillips chose to approach his task from a minimalist stance to underscore the stark isolation of the lyric rather than alternating between flurries of chicken pickin' and cliched Nashville chestnuts just to appease the sensibilities of hicks who probably still watch TV in the hardware store window, is in no way an indictment of Mr. Phillips technical virtuosity but rather, the profound expression of one who transcends the routine in favor of the impressionistic.
Like that...
