Rob Lytle is a singer-songwriter on the rise. His new CD titled You. Must. Stop. was recorded in Nashville and aside from featuring many fantastic players, Lytle shows himself to be an irresistible artist, the kind whose vocal tenderness and lyrical honesty compel you to listen to him. These twelve tracks show intricacy of songwriting and insightfulness of the human condition.
You. Must. Stop. opens with the song of hope “Why They Play The Game,” a softly spoken piece about a child who, despite being told he was permanently handicapped, went on to play little league sports. Lytle’s voice, residing between sweet and gritty, puts across this story with one eye on the physical action of the sport while his heart is mired in the honest tenderness of the inspiring reality behind it. Thematically, it’s about a child who just does what a child loves to do, play, despite his limitations. It’s also about Lytle’s profound emotional state as he watches this youthful ball of energy simply being a child even though the experts said his deeds could never happen.
“Like You Do” finds Lytle applying more of his sensitive point of view of life, only this time his vocal slows almost to a talking pace and he becomes hauntingly beautiful amidst Fat Kaplin’s pedal steel melody. The combination of voice and pedal steel is intriguing, each enhancing the other, making you hear the sweetness in each.
“Caitlyn” features gorgeous vocals in its lush chorus, breezy moves of voice that gently soothe the ear. Barry Walsh’s roll of piano notes adds a second lovely texture here, and the fulsome sound quality pulls the listener right in.
Title track “You. Must. Stop.” gets its energy from a driving drum beat from John Gardiner and its wide melody from Kaplin’s pedal steel. Lytle here asserts himself into the listener’s consciousness a voice that just glides over a swirl of melodies.
The humorous and slyly touching “Daddy Knows What Boys Want” is Lytle’s playful rant to his young daughter not to trust her boyfriend, who he imagines to be just as girl curious as he once was. Guitarist (and the CD’s producer) Thomm Jutz brings a catchy edge to the melodic front, and backing vocalist Karyn Oliver thickens the clever witty observation in the chorus: “Daddy was a boy once too.”
“Watch Over My Heart,” co-written by Karyn Oliver, is a fantastic love song in which Lytle brings smooth, understated tenderness to a landscape of pristine guitar beauty. Lytle makes this song climb a hillock of musical progressions, putting muscle, lift into his vocal approach, a technique that works wonders at showing the struggle going on inside of him. Oliver is right there beside him, a co-pilot voice that helps him swoop upward when he most needs to.
“Sleeping Bag” finds Lytle tackling another phrase of human existence: lust. The singer-songwriter has a not so subtle sense of humor as he anticipates the joy of tumescent exuberance that await him and his camping partner. The guitars here are a treat as they weave their intricate melodies. It’s good to see a singer-songwriter with a sense of humor. They are usually way to serious.
Another beat driven number, “Finish Line,” brings entertainment value with its peppy dance of melodies and chirpy lyrics. Piano man Barry Walsh keeps it rollicking when the rhythm section of Gardiner and bassist Mark Fain bump it up with palpable groove.
“Love You As You Break My Heart” is a wry observation of the pitfalls of love. Lytle’s voice has that country music purity and earnestness that makes you believe he fell into a going nowhere relationship even though the writing was on the wall. This singer makes you believe everything he is saying. He is all heart. He isn’t trying to layer his music with anything that could detract from what he needs to express lyrically.
“Invincible” is an ironic glance at the vulnerable soul in a failed relationship. And again, Lytle’s voice has that natural tendency to sound honest, vulnerable, sensitive. His voice is like the pied piper that carries you through on, not just it’s purity of timbre but also its naked vulnerability. You just have to listen to find out how this chap turns out.
“Catalog” pokes fun at a guy who still receives his ex-girlfriend’s lingerie catalog in the mail. The last thing this guy needs is a reminder of what he’s not getting: on one level supple flesh sheathed in lacy garments; one another level, relationship and true intimacy. Lytle uses his more sophisticated songwriting skills to pull this off as he makes you realize it isn’t’ just the physical part of the relationship he mourns. As he does throughout this disc, Lytle uses that tender vocal approach of his to lay his soul bare and that works wonders at serving his underlying theme.
“Now You Don’t” closes out this CD with a delicious mesh of keyboards supporting Lytle’s final love song here. This one song gently releases the listener from the grip of pleasant melodies and images from a well played and well produced CD. You. Must. Stop. benefits greatly from producer Thomm Jutz’s pristine recording of Lytle’s earnest vocal approach and tasteful brush strokes from each of the supporting musicians.
