Set against a vivid backdrop of poetry and sensational imagery, Andrew Reed’s If All The World Were Right is a cultural nod to the hallowed class of troubadours before him while bringing an important development in perspective – the modern era of politics. Though not a complete treatise on how things ought to be, Reed succeeds in a minimalist approach that his verbose contemporaries often relish in.
Reed may first give off the impression of seeming somewhat aloof with the lacksidasical “Life In the City” or “Cure My Mind,” but it’s more of a testament to Reed’s level of zen than it is the singer-songwriter taking a backseat to his record. One need look no further than the titular track to feel the control in theme on the album as well as Reed’s multi-layered retreat into the perspective of a new age classicism.
The trajectory of listening to If All The World Were Right can best be described as waltz down Canby Street – or perhaps Haight-Ashbury (really, any street of cultural infamy) – with a seasoned tour guide. One won’t experience any strife or inharmonious feelings. Rather, they will be immersed in a world of hyper-confidence in just how agreeable the world can be. Reed’s message isn’t necessarily a lament regarding how woefully backwards our current state of affairs is, it’s a celebration of the glimpses of hope in which the world displays a positive worldview.
Ever the optimist, Reed’s brilliance in arrangements and storytelling shines through. If All The World Were Right may be just the necessary revelation of present hope we need.