This came out in 2003 – or at least that’s when I got it. Here’s what I said about it back then (with some minor editing):
Offkilter Halifax rapper and turntablist Buck 65 has always been ahead of the pack. But with his artfully ambitious album Talkin’ Honky Blues, Buck — aka Rich Terfry — leaves his competitors choking on his dust.
An 18-song chronicle of rootlessness and wanderlust set along a river, this 57-minute magnum opus is Buck’s richest and most rewarding recording. First, there’s his music — unlike the cookie-cutter constructs of many hip-hoppers, Buck’s bed tracks are things of quirky beauty, with low-rolling rhythms, dusty textures, sinister basslines, fuzzy synths, twangy guitars and loopy overdubs that blend into a cinematic soundtrack somewhere between spaghetti western and film noir. Then there’s his lyrics — Buck’s always had a way with words, though they’ve never packed more power than they do here. Talkin’ Honky Blues overflows with vivid imagery (“A deaf violinist plays on the docks / He’s missing a tooth and he stands on a box”), tragic metaphor (“The river itself feeds on souls / The suicides, the ones who let go”), black humour (“Christ almighty, there’s a rattle in the wheel well / Dog fell asleep and man, I don’t feel well”) and True Detective quips (“They sleepwalk / Full of that cheap wine and cheap talk”). Combine all these ingredients and you have a disc that fuses the slackerish oddness of Beck, the growling romanticism of Tom Waits and the two-fisted wordplay of Raymond Chandler.
