Bleu Edmondson

I got into trouble the last time I tried to write about Bleu Edmondson. Seems his fans took exception to things I said about him. So I figured I’d go on down the road and forget about it. Then I screwed up and bought his latest CD. And I can’t forget about it. Bleu won’t let me. Damned boy writes too good a song to forget about it.

There’s heart, soul, and substance in this CD and great sound too. It’ll grow and grow on you, or at least it has with me.

On my list, Bleu is one of the top five young acts to come out of Texas in recent times. There�s not much country about Bleu; he hails from young Springsteen, John Mellencamp, Rick Springfield rock and roll territory. But if that isn’t Americana then what is?

Bleu searched his soul for this one. Then he took an axe to a frozen heart and found a strong warm pulse beneath the ice. Many of the songs document battles and wounds suffered in the strange battlefield fought in the bars and honkytonks or our land�a place where those that lead with the heart get savaged.

For any that accuse Bleu of getting soft, you’d have to be brain dead not to realize that this world and our country in particular is in bad shape. People look but don�t see, they listen but don�t hear. We live in a dark time where prayers hardly make it though the haze and answers are not always forthcoming: a time and a place where people have been raised with the best the planet has to offer, are surrounded by luxury, yet have become little more than hollow shells, almost soulless in their selfishness. Bleu is blessed (or cursed, depending on how you look at it) with seeing and hearing everything and trying to make sense of it. It may be the only world he has known, but down deep, he knows something�s wrong and he�s doing his best to describe how he feels.

It’s no wonder he feels lost sometimes.

On Lost Boy, Bleu Edmondson doesn’t sing Rock and Roll, he bleeds it.