Much has been written about BLAZE FOLEY over the yearsmaybe too much. His outsized reputation has overshadowed his recordings, which by comparison seem enigmatic, unfocused, and devoid of ambition. But this could actually describe Foley, who in his short lifetime (he was murdered in 1989 at age 39) never made it into the elite echelon of Austin songwriters. He was easily his own worst enemy, and hes remembered as much for his drunken escapades as for his sad, funny, street-smart songs. Which makes COLD, COLD WORLD (Lost Art) such a welcome arrival. These are charismatic, sublime recordings made early on (1979-1980), Foley trying his damnedest to nail his creations to tape before his demons tipped the seesaw permanently downward. With compatriot Gurf Morlix, he took the songs into the studio to record an album that would never be finished. Morlix headed west, while Foley, a menacing-looking giant who wrote lines like Faded loves and memories/How they take the best of me, took another path. A release back then could have changed everything. Instead, Cold, Cold World stands as a signpost pointing in a brighter direction.
