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e of it to tape. The soul that animates so many of these 14 tracks? That was themusic shared bygrandfatherand grandson.Burts California childhood was not easy. His parents split when he was young, so he wouldoften shuttle between their houses in Sacramento and the Bay Area. He was a bit of a wild child,too. From time to time, though, he would accompany his father to work at a plant nursery, ridingshotgun in a 1975 Cadillac Seville as they listened to The Delfonics and Otis Redding, MarvinGaye and The Temptations. Those drives were his sanctuary, that music their blessed score.But as Burt became a musician himself, he was a peripatetic troubadour, tapping into Americanfolk and blues partly as a matter of necessityits not sensible to busk, after all, with somesophisticated band at your back. Bits of those other roots and compositional ambitions finallyemerged on2021sYou, Yeah, You, the vivid result of Burts first proper studio sessions. OnTraffic Fiction, they are in full bloom, from the sweet country-soul surrealism of the title track tothe skywriting rock of2For Tha Show,Burt as urgentand commanding as hes ever been.Traffic Fictionis the sound of Burt confidently bending a sentimental past to his present will. To get to this new alchemy of soul, dub, and more than a little punk, Burt returned to thebasicsself-recording in sequestered silence. During a Canadian tour, he set aside a few days tostay in a friends spare apartment and write, renting enough instruments from the affordable gearemporium Long d written about stupid citycongestion and a piece by saxophonist and singer Gary Bartz.
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