locals
used to be the end of the line
indigo
barcelona, spain
how i met my wife
shitheads
upstate
visiting day
back home
3% sugar
nafta
cry for you
the next sound you hear
take care
the deerpeople

Listening to Eddy Lawrence's new CD Locals (on his own Snowplow label) is like reading a Russell Banks novel. In both, the sense of place -- snow-locked upstate New York -- is as palpable as the smell of woodsmoke and kerosene.

Casey Seilor
Burlington Free Press

As usual, Lawrence has kept the production down to the basics, which is fine because he is a very adept guitarist. As if the compelling material and performance weren't enough of an incentive, Lawrence commendably sells the album for $5.00.

Paul-Emile Comeau
Dirty Linen

    I'm convinced that Eddy Lawrence is writing a novel, one song at a time. No one writing songs today crams as much revealing detail, such brilliant local color, and as many authentic overheard conversations into a set of verse and chorus.
    Whether he's borrowing a musical signature to identify his geographical home, or spoofing international trade policy, Eddy Lawrence plies his craft with wit, intelligence and an unerring musicality. I don't know why Nashville isn't clamoring for Lawrence product. Maybe it's just too good for them.

Ed McKeon
New Britain Herald