When we listen to Nick Redmond‘s “Crickets,” we summon up thoughts of 1971, all sunlit rooms and calico cats and straight-haired girls and tapestries, pensively reading Rod McKuen and drifting into flights of fancy about men in shining armor.
Nick Redmond has left no trace of who he is, where he comes from or where he intends to go.
But he has left behind this song, “Crickets,” from a demo he recorded about five years ago.
We like its lack of pretention and its cut to the bone simplicity. It reminds of a little of the great piano-driven songwriters like Jimmy Webb and the robust, dauntless men of pop folk like Richard Harris.
All the song needs is a manly mustache and a turtleneck sweater and the tableau is complete