“Honesty with a groove” — Gilbert Neal describes his brand of contemporary, funkified acoustic rhythm and blues with this vague statement, drawing on appeal rather than truth.
Vultures and Diamonds contains a base layer of amassed and condensed genres, but a glossy coat of lyrical ploy can’t mask the faulty foundation.
Neal employs his powerful voice at the wrong times, creating awkward spans of lingering falsetto that evoke emotion but kill the songs’ pulse. His voice is similar to that of Adam Duritz of Counting Crows or the innumerable contemporary Christian acts (sans the worshipping). Vultures and Diamonds is feeble when it comes to a definable sound – funky bass solos and pianos dilute the consistency of acoustic guitar and soulful vocals. Neal switches back and forth between influences so often that it’s hard to keep up with the manic pace.
Songs such as “Rag Doll Day” and “Diamonds” are hard pills to swallow. They portray honesty and love through overly simple metaphors. The lyrics are outfitted for a voyage — tightly packed and laden with hooks, but ultimately, the heavy baggage of the instrumentals sinks the ship as it leaves port.
The production is overdone for the singer/songwriter genre. Overlapping vocals and a full lineup in every song are a stark contrast from a man and his guitar, and Neal’s own personality gets lost in the fray.
Neal has found a niche in writing beautiful songs that captivate the mind, but tirelessly beg to be good. Each song is its own beast, and without any cohesion, it’s hard to focus on the record as a whole. A myriad of partnerless, disjointed songs can only cement one thing — a calamity.
