Ah, attempting to corral the elusive spirit of Blind Uncle Harry within the confines of a singular musical genre is an exercise in futility, for he dances across the musical panorama to the beat of his own drum and guitars…and, in this case, tambourines too. In his own colourful parlance, he calls it “hillbilly hippie shreddin’ folk rock,” but even that sweeping label appears too confining for the likes of him.

“Courage To Love” does somewhat nestle into such a classification, exuding a loose, carefree vibe that harkens back to the echoes of CSN&Y or envisions a solitary George Harrison had he not hailed from the Liverpool Beatle brood but instead cut his teeth strumming chords in a ramshackle jug band out of the Kentucky foothills. Or something to that effect; the specifics often elude me.

What I can vouch for, however, is the timeless truth that with each subsequent spin, Blind Uncle Harry, a moniker that betrays his sighted nature and christened identity as Christopher, delivers a song that blossoms with newfound depth on each repeat. Shunning the veneer of sleek studio perfection and the trappings of overproduction, his music embodies the raw, unfiltered essence of honest-to-goodness authenticity, basking in its own rugged splendour.

Once again, true to form, this seemingly unassuming melody unveils layers of profound and profound sentiments, encapsulating the simple truths that pulsate at the core of our collective human experience. Simple truths, my friend. They never fail to strike a chord.

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Musician, scribbler, historian, gnostic, seeker of enlightenment, asker of the wrong questions, delver into the lost archives, fugitive from the law of averages, blogger, quantum spanner, left footed traveller, music journalist, zenarchist, freelance writer, reviewer and gemini. People have woken up to worse.

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