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风格
#原声布鲁斯 #美式乡村
地区
欧美

艺人介绍

Clarence Bucaro has already logged thousands of miles on his songwriting odyssey, and Bucaro’s unique youthful wisdom shines brightly on his new CD, “’Til Spring.” This soulful collection of nine original songs was inspired partly by John Fante’s novel “Wait Until Spring, Bandini,”as well as Bucaro’s amazing travels over the past eight years. His muse has taken Bucaro from his home in Cleveland to walk the 2,200-mile Appalachian Trail, to the music cities of Chicago and New Orleans, the Holy Land of the Middle East, to Europe, Australia, and finally to the modern songwriter’s mecca of New York City where he recorded this outstanding collection of tunes including the inspirational “’Til a Spring Wind Blows Again’ and beautiful love song “Renew My Faith In You.”

Bucaro had a recording contract at a very young age but, after a disappointing experience with the “music business”, he found himself burned out early on. He woke up one day and figured there had to be something more for him out there. Bucaro decided he would travel to seek out whatever it was that this ‘calling’ was. So, Bucaro left his hometown of Cleveland eight years ago to begin an epic journey; a coming-of-age quest sparked by a thirst for knowledge and understanding of the world outside his window and apart from the talking television box nation. After reading Kerouac's “Dharma Bums” he scraped together the change to purchase a ticket on the first bus headed out of town, determined to find some answers and maybe even some new questions.

First stop, Chicago; during his first few days in town, Bucaro met New Orleans musician Anders Osborne. They felt they would meet again down the road somewhere and Bucaro knew Osborne was a person who would change his life. Bucaro also met a traveler returning from a journey on the Appalachian Trail (the footpath from Georgia to Maine along the Appalachian Mountains). This got Bucaro thinking and writing and wanting to 'walk in that man's shoes'. So, following his intuition, he boarded an East-bound bus and headed for the Appalachian Trail.

On Bucaro's five-month trek through the Appalachian mountains with a guitar strapped to his back, he began writing what would become over a thousand songs that he would pen over the next few years. As he summitted Mt. Katahdin, the final peak at trail’s end, Bucaro was ready to ride the next gust of wind wherever his life’s path led. He called on his new friend Anders Osborne back in Chicago, who suggested that Bucaro head down to New Orleans and take in its musical and cultural mosaic.

Without hesitation, Bucaro went to the Crescent City, where he soaked in the romantic town and its vibrant music scene, its eccentricities, and its unique aesthetic. He stayed near the French Quarter and worked trimming trees on the grounds of the historic St. Louis Cathedral.

Next, Bucaro headed to Europe, where he traveled from Finland, Belgium, Italy and Germany, to the Netherlands, France and the United Kingdom. While in Europe, Bucaro even happened upon an Australian singer who invited him to visit her for a bit at her home outside of Sydney. Soon after, Bucaro found himself soaking in the rich natural landscape and beauty of Australia's coast, outback, and the Blue Mountains; another continent's worth of songs and of lessons learned.

It was at that moment Clarence Bucaro felt the call to come back to the States. With his sights set on the West Coast, he arrived in the City of Angels, where he discovered the art of ‘couch surfing’ in Hollywood. Armed with his notebook and guitar, Bucaro visited the home of Charles Bukowski, the old haunts of West Coast songwriters in Laurel Canyon, the clubs Chet Baker played and the abandoned fishing canneries of San Pedro that writer John Fante once frequented. He took many jobs as a 'jack of all trades', yet realized that he was a master of none. Awakening to his calling, he figured that he was, in fact, becoming a master of one certain trade – writing and performing songs.

However, Los Angeles was not the final stop for Bucaro and he knew this. Turning away from the grit and grime of the streets of L.A. he frequented, Bucaro set his sights on his largest and most meaningful adventure to date. Thousands of miles from the models, screenwriters, and cocktails of the Sunset strip, Bucaro rode right into the face of world conflict and embarked on a spiritual and political pilgrimage to the Holy Land and the Middle East. He found himself furiously jotting down notes and sculpting songs in cities like Jerusalem and Istanbul. Bucaro was bursting with energy over the enlightening time spent rummaging through history and the ancient story-lines of once powerful empires and religious epicenters, taking notice of each image and tale.

Now it was clearly time to come home. But having no real home to claim and having absorbed so many places, people, and experiences into his writing and subconscious, it seemed that the great melting-pot of New York City was the only place for Bucaro. And when he pulled into New York, it was clear to Bucaro that he had made the right choice. He traveled the city extensively, like he had the world, and kept scribbling notes and song ideas. Bucaro tossed and turned; living in 13 different flop houses, apartments, sublets, hostels, and couches in just two years. When the dust settled and Bucaro found himself in that recording studio and the tape was rolling, Bucaro knew he had traveled the world in search of this very moment in time.

The recording of "'Til Spring" had pried the history from the mind's eye of this young troubadour and suddenly his hand-written notes, far-reaching travels, and well-crafted songs became a recording that Bucaro can hang his hat on while he continues his life?s journey. Finally, Bucaro, the traveler, thinker and writer has found himself. And the world has found a man with a voice and something to say, a man who has learned patience and earned the right to be heard. 'Til Spring' captures not only the travel and experiences thus far, but also the first chapters of a true artist coming into his own.


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