From the first strains (and I should emphasize the word strains here) of “Prison Without Bars” it’s clear this is not your usual lounge-y/ballad-y/rock-y mash-up of styles commonly found on private-press, homemade recordings. This sounds more akin to someone who dreamt of being the next Tom Jones/Elvis Presley crooner, only English probably isn’t his first language. “Prison Without Bars” opens with all the gusto of, I don’t know… Entrance’s “Grim Reaper Blues.” Only when the singer announces his presence you immediately notice something is off. That doesn’t stop Veda from giving it his all.
For what it’s worth, musically there’s a lot to enjoy here. Somehow he was able to land the Jordanaires (yes, those Jordanaires) to contribute backing vocals. As this was recorded/released in 1974 the famed vocal group were two years removed from working with Elvis. Maybe they heard something in Veda’s voice they wanted to attach themselves to (to which I say, “Meh”). Maybe it just-so-happened they were all living in Nashville at the same time and Veda cornered one of them at a bar. Yeah, that seems more plausible. I’ll go with it.
Don’t let my introduction sway you. While you won’t find me racing to run for president of the Gil Veda fanclub, this is actually quite a downer of an album. And I really like the dourness permeating This Man. Look at the song titles. Nary a hopeful or optimistic thought exist in this space. Life is prison. Confidence is lacking. Everything is your fault. It’s subtly brutal in the same way that the Todd record is brutal. Sure, you can dream of a fantasy land where love lives forever and everything and everyone is beautiful, but it’s just a fucking dream. Wake up. You’re trapped.
Veda seems an intriguing character. He looks like an one of the Munsters mixed with Ralph Furley. His bio reads like he was primed to take the stage at the Grand Ole Opry and never look back. Vegas baby! And then you open the gatefold cover and behold Mr. Veda’s original artwork, and it’s psychedelic as FUCK. Maybe there was more going on in his mind than he was able to render with words and music. If the music sounded like those paintings look, this could have been a fucking incredible record. Instead, it’s This Man. There’s an insert included with the album that you could send in to buy Veda’s original artwork (a unique style he developed himself, which is not yet found in any book!)
 
Gil Veda
This Man
(Square Records, 1974)
MediaFire DL Link
01. Prison Without Bars [MP3]
02. This Man
03. Helena
04. What Did I Do To Her
05. Fool For Losing You
06. There’s No Tomorrow
07. Where Are You
08. Where No Love Dies
09. You Don’t Know Me
10. She Must Be Praying For Me
