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I’m thrilled to say my album got another great review. Hope you’ll take a minute check it out. And thanks to everyone who has bought the album.

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The aptly titled Chaos For The Weary, is the latest offering from comedian Lee Camp, which highlights the out of control western downfall for a generation whose wide-eyed wonderment has been replaced with narrowed slits and furrowed brows. However Camp’s loud, screeching complaints manage to provide the listener with a lively catharsis that acts as the aloe on the throbbing sunburn of our social soul.

Kicking off with a breathy tirade, Camp aims his sights at whom he identifies as the single group of people responsible for leaving the world in it’s present crippled mess: people over fifty. Camp immediately jumps into a diatribe aimed at the group who “grabbed up all the easy money and the beachfront property, [who] took all the clean air into their lungs … and all the good music into their ears and they left us with STDs, rehab, and the Jonas Brothers! Fuck them!” But, moving like a prizefighter, Camp hits the audience with a barrage of intellectual shots before pulling back and tossing out a gentle one-liner like “Having big hands must suck… cause if you speak sign language, you’re always yelling.” There are breaks from more standard socio-political points of contention where Camp addresses pressing metaphysical quandaries such as why, when people claim to see ghosts of dead relatives, they all seem to have on clothes.

Digging deeper, he goes on to address the prospect of child laborers in the afterlife, who would certainly be working to provide dead grandpa with cheap clothing. From the prospect of ghost sweatshops to why we should appoint top doctors celebrity status (and all the privileges of decadence thereunto), these unique perspectives and ideas piece together an engaging and entertaining set. His juxtaposition between vitriolic social commentary and the harmless observational interludes allow Camp’s style to both pique the listener’s interest, and quell the visceral effervescence he himself instigates.

Although far from alone in the realm of comic-slash-social commentators, which have become iconic of the New York City comedic brood, he still manages to hold distinction through a clenched-jaw cadence and wheezing punch lines. “Chaos for the Weary” is a solid album with plenty of thought-provoking insights that do not sacrifice humor in the process. By the end, you are well versed in the chaos, but you are not left weary. (Stand Up! Records)

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