This came out in 2004 – or at least that’s when I got it. Here’s what I said about it back then (with some minor editing):
Fred Eaglesmith apparently stopped trying to impress the world a long time ago.
Nowadays, the roots-rock road dog makes music only for himself and his cult of fans. I presume Dusty, the Ontario singer-songwriter’s stunning 13th release, satisfies the former. And if there’s any justice, it should increase membership in the latter. A hushed, candle-lit set that defies Americana convention with its musical depth and orchestral palette, these 10 intimate, literate tales of heartbreak and loss are driven by Eaglesmith’s throaty, Bruce Springsteenish pipes and elegantly decorated by collaborator/producer Scott Merritt’s woozy, ethereal chamber-folk settings, which emphasize cello and organ over guitar and drums. From the highway rest-stop still-life I 75 to the narcoleptic Codeine and the sepia-tone Tex-Mex of Carne Del Toro, Dusty is simultaneously gorgeous, haunting, enigmatic, compelling, and staggeringly impressive — whether Fred gives a damn or not.
