So my first thought/feeling upon hearing Mike Mangione's Tenebrae for the first time was: "Great, another patch for my personal, musical quilt." By the second cut, my musical metaphor loom caught a snag. While Mangione's talent certainly could be woven into a warm respite from the hard-edged, often biting Billboard occupants, that type of easy pigeon-holing would shortchange him and the public.

Mangione is a unique, home-grown, home-spun, all-organic, polyester-free body wrap you are powerlessly drawn to---regardless of the season or the weather. Not to put too fine a point on it ---and not to hammer it home to a blunt dullness--- Mangione's voice is that of a husky, all-guy, wholly endearing campfire cowboy, complete with a sincere, smooth to the touch and the ear, cracked rawhide feel to it, minus the cartoon coyote/cowpoke lyrical landscape. How else could anyone make the proverbial break-up line: "Baby it's me, not you", (p.24 of the Man-up and Break-up Already Guide) come across as fresh, genuine and scrubbed up shiny new?

Which isn't to say Mangione trades on exceptional vocals, melody lines and fresh guitar picking (pay especially close attention to "Great Divide") to convey what, in the hands of lesser musicians, might ring of hollow triteness. Au contraire, mes ami(e)s. There's the haunting, gospel-like "The Killing Floor" ; I could listen to him stretch out "hallelujah" for hours upon hours and still discover something new and alluring about each syllable and pause. Then there's the sparse and swelling "Please Forgive Me", a song so strong and moving I would happily forgive its singer of just about anything short of scarfing down the last scoop of Pralines and Cream within a 200 mile radius.

If you're not a go-to-the-mattresses-to-defend-his-honor variety of Mangione fan after this pair of introductory cuts, kindly and quickly forfeit your membership to the hearing world.

But if your fanhood reticence is just a matter of haughty "discriminating musical tastes" (AKA: you're an auditory snob who wouldn't recognize talent if it slithered next to you in bed and even stuck around to prepare a gourmet breakfast), then be gone with you. You don't deserve Tenebrae. In fact, you don't deserve those symmetrical head accessories, since you're obviously not using them for anything other than to keep your hat and glasses from slipping down.

But, if you're simply and sadly a life-long artistic fence-sitter, physically unable to declare your musical affiliation until you've experienced every note ever written by and/or emitted from a new-to-you artist, then beg, borrow or steel a pen to sign that Mangione Fan Club membership card. You will quickly and permanently be enamored of the balance of this CD.

From "Waiting For No One" right down to "Mama, Be Not Afraid", Mangione is addictive, alluring, hip, happening, hopeful and hope inspiring... Oh, and evidently a good bro to boot, as evidenced by the liner notes: "Despite my name being on the cover, I would like to acknowledge my brother Tom Mangione who contributed artistically in everything from writing to recording this album." And a grateful son: "A very special thank you to our parents, Peter and Patricia." There's a tip of the hat also to a Stacy Mangione for the album design and layout.

That's some talented family tree. I'd give up the drumstick for a place around the Mangione clan's dining room table next family holiday. The post-meal entertainment, even in spite of the coma-inducing turkey, would keep me musically happily plump and satisfied, until at least the next family gathering. Or until I can pop Tenebrae back into the CD player. Whichever comes first (I know, I know---I'll need to pick up CD player batteries LOOOOONG before I need to pick out a hostess gift).