The cover for "Let it Suck" tells you what's in store, it's a tongue in cheek take off on The Rolling Stones "Let It Bleed" album. This, however is not a Stones tribute album, it's much more, it's the culmination of all the trials and tribulations that this band went through during its existence. Most music critics dwell on who the Saddlesores sound like, maybe because they wear their influences like tattoos . However they have gone beyond their many influences to create a signature sound. The shame of it all is that that the band really hit their stride on this album, the group's best and last. Chris Martin on drums kicks in the lead track "Cumon-n-Luvme" a song about a daddy's girl turned bad. "Driving around your cul de sac and I was Bored! Bored! Bored!" croons Cole in his familiar drawl. He then tells her to "Ease out your window and slip out the back," while the chorus implores the girl, "To do what you do best, Cumon-n-Luvme." The gal is just a tad smarter than Cole likes so he blurts out "What's your SATS got to do with me, your future Phi Beta Kappa is all Greek to me." So is the girl coming down or not?, Cole has his doubts so he breaks into a series of yelps and moans as he pleads "I don't mind, Cumon-n-Luvme I don't mind." Meanwhile in the background Keith Drummond and Ben Harrison add some gritty, bump and grind guitars. Chris Martin who led us into this tale of wanton lust, now leads us out with a furious drum solo that drives a crowd of random onlookers to start hootin' and hollerin'. That's Dating, Albuquerque style!
The high lonesome yodel that leads you into "Cry (x5)" says it all, this is a song about heartbreak, drinking and crying in whatever order you like. There seems to be a sudden rash of broken hearts, as Cole tells it "the traffic cops are nervous, they know you're up to no good, cus the pickup trucks are lined up in your neck of the woods." Damn pitiful sight, all those ole boys just pining away, but Cole feels their pain "Nobody wants to feel lonesome, nobody wants to feel blue" he sums it up "just like every other stiff in this joint trying to get over you!" Damn that's just more "tears in my beer" than a good man can choke down. Bartender!, now I really do need a drink, what the...... whoa there fella, who said you could sit next to me? Why don't you take that black coffee, that greasy enchilada and move to a booth in the back....What!....hey don't be a martyr, just move on, some people have nerve, I tell you. "Gravity" tells the tale of a barfly ("string ties and cigarettes, big excuses, petty lies and no regrets") the story unfolds to a tex-mex beat, "He's drugstore cowboy cool, he rides a mean bar stool" sings Cole, however this beer bottle wrangler is not what he seems to be, Cole adds "He says, those sons of bankers and sons of doctors, those sons of bitches and their lawyers, I was once on top of that heap, seems like I died in my sleep" then he lets his guard down and in the process we realize just how vulnerable this urban cowboy really is. "Because here I sit with my finger on the trigger and I'm trying to recapture, trying to re-figure......Hold me close...Gravity."
"Well Oh Well" is a romp and stomp love song, which after a rousing harmonica intro, Cole spits out "you say you feel like a tramp and I'm sorry, you feel like a whore and oh well, but I must disagree cus I'm destined to know, You feel pretty good to me!" The joys and pleasures of drink and women brought to us by Albuquerque's version of the Glimmer Twins. "Melancholy" the Saddlesore's Arena Rock opus closes out the album, it starts out slow and quiet "Melancholy that's my name, but I'm not sure of anything" Cole sings it like he's on horseback, cold and tired after a long night of riding herd (them are Longnecks, not Longhorns, son!) and then midway into the song, the band ups the ante, the guitars build to a crescendo, Chris pounds the skins with gusto while Cole rides on top of the big beat. "Milk and Honey was my name but I'm stuck with sour grapes and blame" he sings as the music continues to build, this time there is no turning back, they will ride till they drop. One guitar rains down a shower of controlled feedback that I can only describe as regal, while the other guitar builds to a Pete Townsend style climax. Yeah! cue the Bic lighters, let us celebrate these bards of the barroom, yes they are poets, but poets with muscle cars, mullets and guitars.
