That Recado is only Vince Bell’s fourth release speaks less to his productivity than to his resilience. A onetime Texas contemporary of Lyle Lovett, Steve Earle and Nanci Griffith (who once noted, “I always felt Vince was the best of us”), Bell was sidelined for years after a horrific car wreck in 1982.
His protracted recovery has lent an added poignance to his three albums since the accident, although, having dealt with the episode in book form (1998’s One Man’s Music), he seldom alludes to it in song (“I bumped my head against the sky/But I’m still standing” may be one such reference on Recado).
Bell’s lush acoustic presentation is as straightforward as his laconic, slightly raspy voice, reminiscent of Bruce Cockburn or Jon Dee Graham. Plainspoken details abound in the ten Bell originals featured here. “If you’re gonna spend some time, spend some time,” he sings in the beguiling opener, “Isla”. Singing of a different landscape — the high desert around Santa Fe, New Mexico, where he currently makes his home — Bell warns, “The wind blows like an engine.” And he sounds a cautionary note born of hard experience to a young artist: “I could never put a price on a labor of love.”
The solitary cover, an asymmetrical cover of Townes Van Zandt’s “Mr. Mudd & Mr. Gold”, lends a surreal touch to a record that is mostly packed with the kinds of observations on the human condition that have distinguished Bell’s work throughout his hardscrabble career. Let’s all drink a toast to second acts.