Born in Rome and the son of a composer, Caleb grew up in New York City, a student of the school of performing arts that Fame made more widely known to the masses. You have to believe he is talented. It seems music is in his blood, so I wonder why it seems Caleb is beating himself into the ground. It’s like he’s opening up a space for his own failure with the opener, “Welcome”. Though he is talking about someone else, it may be a reflection of his own Fear Of Success.
The track “I Fall To Pieces” has this warm, comfy feel, but it doesn’t stick out much. “Pick Yourself Up” is spirited in its good for the cause, but it ends up being rather monotonous. He proves himself an obvious fan of The Police and/or Sting with “Throw Down Your Weapons” and gives off the vibe of something old mixed with something new. The Southern chops of “The Best Thing” is almost too little too late.
Caleb has a smooth melody and songs that can become friendly and comfortable. But his songs just become too comfortable, so comfortable that they are easily forgotten like the slippers you put on every morning without a second thought. You could play this album over and over and never quite find it inside you.
+ rae gun
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