Seemingly coming out of nowhere, Hawksley Workman gained a lot of critical acclaim for his debut album, and for good reason: it was literate, inventive, and musically accomplished. The release attracted major-label attention and Workman was soon signed to Universal for the follow-up. For some reason Workman felt compelled to tinker with his sound on this sophomore release; perhaps it was the gobs of production money available to him, or maybe it was just the fact that he knew the push that a major label would afford him would bring him to a completely different audience. Whatever the reason, the persona Workman hung on himself, at least for the first couple of tracks here, is a sleazy and oversexed lummox. In the opening cut, "Striptease," you can almost hear him salivating as he yelps "striptease for me, baby," and on the second track he whines, "I'm jealous of your cigarette/And the way you want to suck on it...but not me." It's not particularly clever, and it's a downright devastating one-two punch right at the beginning of the album, especially for those who valued the exceptionally smart brand of pop music found on the debut. By track three, though, he's back on track, lyrically speaking, with emotional, piano-driven pop, even if the production is still a bit glossy; in fact, some of the remaining songs on (Last Night We Were) the Delicious Wolves rank among his best. "Little Tragedies" sports a bouncy pop groove and "Your Beauty Must Be Rubbing Off" is a particular highlight, with Workman's amazing falsetto bouncing wildly off of some of his most inscrutable lyrics. In the end, it's not a bad album at all, but it would certainly have been a much better one if had started at track three. AMG.
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