Lost in the Crowd, the first music album release
from award-winning screenwriter and
author Marc Cushman, is reviewed.
August 10, 2026. Marc Cushman’s first album, backed by the group WHATSTHEIRNAME and released by Jacobs/Brown Media Group, comes as an entertaining surprise.
Perhaps the biggest wonder concerning Lost in the Crowd is that all these songs were written in 1971 and ’72 when Cushman was only 16 and 17 years old. But don’t hold that bit of information against them – the songs are good! Perhaps thematically a bit serious and sometimes dark for all tastes, but Cushman had many concerns for his age and voiced them in these well-crafted, catchy songs. Also notable is the sheer bulk – there are 16 songs, with a total running time of just over an hour. That’s
Cushman, as he looked about ten years after writing the songs featured on his first musical collection, Lost in the Crowd.
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quite a packed album. But I would be hard-pressed to pick any of them for removal. And, despite having so many tracks, the album moves.
The music is unusually varied, just as Top 40 radio was back in those days when you could hear Beatles, Elvis, Carpenters, Jackson 5, Marvin Gaye, Aretha Franklin, Sinatra, Buck Owens, Led Zeppelin, and “Jesus Christ Superstar” all on the same station. Not saying you’ll experience all those styles here, but the music on Lost in the Crowd is quite diverse, just as radio was back when these songs were written. Cushman you may know from his award-winning books and screenplays. WHATSTHEIRNAME is new. The liner notes will tell you that this outfit is comprised of “a combination of studio singers and musicians, as well as AI performances and mastering.” And Cushman, too, as writer, producer, and performer. His DNA is in every track. |
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Lost in the Crowd kicks off with “Something New,” an ode to late 1960s psychedelia, with a hint of blues/rock tossed in. This was the first song Cushman wrote. At 16, he might he might have something to offer, as a writer, but would it be enough to break through into the music business, or, concerning a parallel writing career he was eying, the screenwriting trade? As it usually is, there were more walls blocking the way than doors that might open. The song tells us, “Letting go … of the doubts that fill my mind / I can be with a million others just standing there in line / All my dreams … it’s all I’ve ever been / But will these dreams mean more than those from all the other men.” He then asks, “If it’s something new, what I try / Will there still be room in the sky?” And so, the audition begins, with 15 more tryouts to follow. This bluesy/psychedelic throwback is a trip to hear and a fun start for the album. The performances both here and throughout by WHATSTHEIRNAME are polished and often moving.
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“Something New,” one of four video/singles from the album, was created through AI assist by inputting photos and videos of Cushman from when he was 18.
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“Free Man” is next. It’s in the 1960s folk-music genre. The message is that, while we Americans live in the land of the free, we sometimes have to fight for that freedom on a personal level. It’s a catchy, up-tempo number, with a purpose.
“Gasoline” (Track 3) states, “In the age of mounting inflation / sell your soul, sell out your nation / Give us gasoline / Nothing in the world will disagree with gasoline,” and “Wherever, whenever I’m blue / I empty my pockets and fill up my tank with you.” This brings up a case of a song (written in the summer of 1971) gaining further significance by the passing of time. Gas was 30 cents a gallon back then. I don’t need to tell you what it costs now or how dependent the U.S. economy is on it. Yet the serious theme is treated with playfulness, including the song’s bouncy Indie folk-rock presentation which allows this track to feel new while still adhering the 1960s/1970s tribute theme. Incidentally, with all the heady topics covered on the album, there are no straight-forward love songs. “Gasoline,” then, with it’s “I lu-u-uve you” refrain (sung to a tankful of gas, no less), is as close as we get to “roses are red, violets are blue.” (This will change in future collections.)
“Answers,” the fourth song on the album, leans in the direction of country folk-rock. It’s a pleasant, up-tempo number with things to say. Sample lyric: “I can’t give you a footnote to our books of war and peace / I can’t give you a glimpse of your inner soul and inner peace,” and “The people all around me, they never ever want to see / Our great ability is our talent to disagree.” Then the songwriter adds, “I can’t tell you what we are doing here at all / If we fight needlessly, then what are we doing here at all?” The message needs to be heard today by many.
Do you like Johnny Cash, particularly from his rockabilly period? He gets a nod with “Man with a Gun”(Track 5). The man in black could have sunk his teeth into this number, with a theme that is a bit black, too. The fellow with the gun is “chasing after shadows / And the shadows, they chase him back.” The song comes with a dark surprise at the end. The man with the gun (a metaphor for any instrument of control and danger) was the songwriter’s father, taking his son along for this unholy ride. After the father is gone, will the boy become another “Man with a Gun”?
Along with the psychedelic opener “Something New,” Cushman and group revisit the sound in “School Daze”(Track 6). This song talks of a student who yearns to be anywhere but the classroom he is stuck in, preferably out on an “open, empty road” where he is not burdened by lecturing adults. The theme gets serious at times, and even foreshadows the future (“Year after year the future can scare you to death / When technology won’t even let us catch our breath”), but the sound, powered by a lovely melody and steady beat, is pop candy to my ears.
“Being Free” (Track 7) makes a good companion song for “Free Man.” While the first gave advice to fight for our various freedoms, the second acknowledges that there can be a downside to having too much freedom, at least for those who don’t know how to make good choices. In this case, the subject of the song is a person who “lies in a heap upon the bed,” lacks ambition, numbed by drugs, and is idling away his or her time staring at the TV. Like many of the album’s tracks, this resonates more today than when the song was first written, with lines such as, “You’ll feel nothing now / No, you can’t, you don’t know how / You’ll just stare at the wall or TV / It’s a hopeless state of mind / when boredom’s a daily grind / and the biggest threat to you is being free.” The tune is the first of two songs on the album to feature a subtle orchestral arrangement that is both tasteful and tasty.
“Hangover” (Track 8), with the hook line “I have got a hangover from the war before,” is delivered through the perspective of a war veteran, witnessing the horrors of modern combat (“I woke up and crawled out of bed / Then I looked around at the dead / Clad in green and looking overfed / Bathed in blood, so proud, so red”) and his concern over an 18-year-old being drafted to serve beside him (“Now they want you to join me / This land of the proud and free / The draft is calling you to glory / You’re just eighteen and not really so free”). The track, incidentally, benefits from an infectious blues/rock arrangement, with a hint of garage rock fro both the 1960s and beyond.
On the heels of “Hangover,” “No Reason” (Track 9) takes to the streets of America with the observations of a pacifist (“Oh my, do you have to die / Lay your bones out in the field to dry / In time, will you know why / for this, anyone had to die?”). The singer then finds himself at an anti-war rally (“We’ve got no reason / To fight, but why is that treason? / For us, there is no purpose / To allow our deaths to be so worthless,” and a message to the politicians: “The fire you build, it will burn us!” “No Reason” will hit you in the gut. The words are chilling. The production, which includes strings on top of the standard folk instrumentation, packs a wallop. But we will repeat the caution given at the outset, about the album perhaps being a bit too serious and sometimes dark for all tastes.
Speaking of darkness, “Deep in My Hole” (Track 10) is another slice of 1960s psychedelia (clearly a favorite of this songwriter). It is a song about being stuck in a hole, which appears to be describing a dream, and not a good one, either, or perhaps a bad trip. Yet despite the theme, and the “darkened faces” the storyteller is encountering, the song is dreamy, reminiscent of some of John Lennon’s contributions to the Beatles’ psychedelic period (“Strawberry Fields Forever,” “A Day in the Life”) and other pretty psychedelic confections from that era, such as “Pictures of Matchstick Men” (Status Quo) “Hurdy Gurdy Man” (Donovan) and “Itchycoo Park” (Small Faces). If you liked any of them, you should like this one, too.
“Answers,” the fourth song on the album, leans in the direction of country folk-rock. It’s a pleasant, up-tempo number with things to say. Sample lyric: “I can’t give you a footnote to our books of war and peace / I can’t give you a glimpse of your inner soul and inner peace,” and “The people all around me, they never ever want to see / Our great ability is our talent to disagree.” Then the songwriter adds, “I can’t tell you what we are doing here at all / If we fight needlessly, then what are we doing here at all?” The message needs to be heard today by many.
Do you like Johnny Cash, particularly from his rockabilly period? He gets a nod with “Man with a Gun”(Track 5). The man in black could have sunk his teeth into this number, with a theme that is a bit black, too. The fellow with the gun is “chasing after shadows / And the shadows, they chase him back.” The song comes with a dark surprise at the end. The man with the gun (a metaphor for any instrument of control and danger) was the songwriter’s father, taking his son along for this unholy ride. After the father is gone, will the boy become another “Man with a Gun”?
Along with the psychedelic opener “Something New,” Cushman and group revisit the sound in “School Daze”(Track 6). This song talks of a student who yearns to be anywhere but the classroom he is stuck in, preferably out on an “open, empty road” where he is not burdened by lecturing adults. The theme gets serious at times, and even foreshadows the future (“Year after year the future can scare you to death / When technology won’t even let us catch our breath”), but the sound, powered by a lovely melody and steady beat, is pop candy to my ears.
“Being Free” (Track 7) makes a good companion song for “Free Man.” While the first gave advice to fight for our various freedoms, the second acknowledges that there can be a downside to having too much freedom, at least for those who don’t know how to make good choices. In this case, the subject of the song is a person who “lies in a heap upon the bed,” lacks ambition, numbed by drugs, and is idling away his or her time staring at the TV. Like many of the album’s tracks, this resonates more today than when the song was first written, with lines such as, “You’ll feel nothing now / No, you can’t, you don’t know how / You’ll just stare at the wall or TV / It’s a hopeless state of mind / when boredom’s a daily grind / and the biggest threat to you is being free.” The tune is the first of two songs on the album to feature a subtle orchestral arrangement that is both tasteful and tasty.
“Hangover” (Track 8), with the hook line “I have got a hangover from the war before,” is delivered through the perspective of a war veteran, witnessing the horrors of modern combat (“I woke up and crawled out of bed / Then I looked around at the dead / Clad in green and looking overfed / Bathed in blood, so proud, so red”) and his concern over an 18-year-old being drafted to serve beside him (“Now they want you to join me / This land of the proud and free / The draft is calling you to glory / You’re just eighteen and not really so free”). The track, incidentally, benefits from an infectious blues/rock arrangement, with a hint of garage rock fro both the 1960s and beyond.
On the heels of “Hangover,” “No Reason” (Track 9) takes to the streets of America with the observations of a pacifist (“Oh my, do you have to die / Lay your bones out in the field to dry / In time, will you know why / for this, anyone had to die?”). The singer then finds himself at an anti-war rally (“We’ve got no reason / To fight, but why is that treason? / For us, there is no purpose / To allow our deaths to be so worthless,” and a message to the politicians: “The fire you build, it will burn us!” “No Reason” will hit you in the gut. The words are chilling. The production, which includes strings on top of the standard folk instrumentation, packs a wallop. But we will repeat the caution given at the outset, about the album perhaps being a bit too serious and sometimes dark for all tastes.
Speaking of darkness, “Deep in My Hole” (Track 10) is another slice of 1960s psychedelia (clearly a favorite of this songwriter). It is a song about being stuck in a hole, which appears to be describing a dream, and not a good one, either, or perhaps a bad trip. Yet despite the theme, and the “darkened faces” the storyteller is encountering, the song is dreamy, reminiscent of some of John Lennon’s contributions to the Beatles’ psychedelic period (“Strawberry Fields Forever,” “A Day in the Life”) and other pretty psychedelic confections from that era, such as “Pictures of Matchstick Men” (Status Quo) “Hurdy Gurdy Man” (Donovan) and “Itchycoo Park” (Small Faces). If you liked any of them, you should like this one, too.
“In the Library” (Track 11) plays like a slice of the Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young musical pie, circa 1970. It had me thinking of songs such as “Carry On” and “Southern Man,” as performed live on the Four Way Street album, which featured the electric-guitar dueling of Neil Young and Stephen Stills, and similar guitar work by Stills on other classics like “Wooden Ships” (1969). You’ll get a taste of this with “In the Library,” along with a lead vocal reminiscent of Stills himself. This is the only song on the album in which Cushman shares the writing credit, with a fellow high-schooler named Nancy Larson. It was her poem that Cushman modified, then set to music (“Stale air and books around / Stale air without a sound / It was here I rested, here I thought / Of all the things that books have taught”). Where it goes from there reminds me of something Paul Simon might have written in the 1960s about emotional isolation.
“You Can Follow (I’m Giving You Hell)” (Track 12) is cabaret-style blues, featuring a soulful female vocalist (WHATSHERNAME?), who, in this case, plays the part of a seductive devil (“Now, you can follow / Your sin is hard to swallow / But you do it so well / Now, you can follow / You’re mine tomorrow / I’m giving you Hell”). She’s singing to the “I’d-rather-die-than-grow-old” crowd that live for today and carry few ethics in their emotional baggage. The vocal performance is both seductive and sinister, the arrangement, featuring acoustic guitar, jazz electric guitar, a stand-up acoustic bass, drums, and horns, is a knockout. It is no sin to like this devilish track.
The straight-forward country rock song on the collection is “Uncle Sam” (Track 13), an ass kicker with a theme suggesting that America’s Uncle Sam was (and maybe still is) too beholden to the corporations. The serious theme doesn’t get in the way of an appealing sing-along for good ol’ boys in America’s heartland. The arrangement feels current, but if you think the style of this track doesn’t fit well into an album with a 1960s and early ’70s musical theme, think again. Country/western music began transitioning toward country/rock in the mid-1960s, and the term “country rock” emerged in 1968.
“You Can Follow (I’m Giving You Hell)” (Track 12) is cabaret-style blues, featuring a soulful female vocalist (WHATSHERNAME?), who, in this case, plays the part of a seductive devil (“Now, you can follow / Your sin is hard to swallow / But you do it so well / Now, you can follow / You’re mine tomorrow / I’m giving you Hell”). She’s singing to the “I’d-rather-die-than-grow-old” crowd that live for today and carry few ethics in their emotional baggage. The vocal performance is both seductive and sinister, the arrangement, featuring acoustic guitar, jazz electric guitar, a stand-up acoustic bass, drums, and horns, is a knockout. It is no sin to like this devilish track.
The straight-forward country rock song on the collection is “Uncle Sam” (Track 13), an ass kicker with a theme suggesting that America’s Uncle Sam was (and maybe still is) too beholden to the corporations. The serious theme doesn’t get in the way of an appealing sing-along for good ol’ boys in America’s heartland. The arrangement feels current, but if you think the style of this track doesn’t fit well into an album with a 1960s and early ’70s musical theme, think again. Country/western music began transitioning toward country/rock in the mid-1960s, and the term “country rock” emerged in 1968.
A second rockabilly track (after “Man with a Gun”), with leaning this time toward late 1950s and early ’60s rock’n’roll, is the title song, “Lost in the Crowd”(Track 14). Do I hear a little of the young Elvis in this ode to the Midnight Cowboy(a country boy blatantly out of place in a crowded and bustling city)? In “Lost in the Crowd,” the rural boy in the big city tells us, “Look at all the people / Rushing off to do their work / In an ocean of steel / In a city ’bout to go berserk” and “Try to see an individual / In cars passing by fast as they can.” The singer concludes, “It may only pay / to gas up and drive away / and not be lost in the crowd.” The song sails along like a souped-up 1958 Cadillac.
Cushman has a knack for appealing melodies, married effectively to his sometimes offbeat, sometimes dark lyrics, like the two songs that close out the album. The first, “Take a Risk (Lay Your Love Down)” (Track 15), is reminiscent of a style of songwriting that peaked from 1967 through 1969, and can be appreciated in the titles referenced earlier by the Beatles, Status Quo, Donovan, and Small Faces, and other melodic curiosities such as songwriter Jimmy Webb’s epic “MacArthur Park.” It’s hard to nail down “Take a Risk” to a specific category of music, but the performances on this track make me think of a breathy Tom Jones, as in “Delilah,” and an equally breathy Sue Thompson (“Sad Movies Make Me Cry”), with an Indie folk/rock 1960s retro arrangement. If that sounds weird, wait until you hear the lyrics, which begins with “Looking out your window, you ask what the day is for / This room is closing in on you like the world outside your door / You’re living a nightmare of terror, tormented by your dreams / They taunt your every error but never suggest a better means”).
“Fade Away,” which ends the album, almost seems beyond the music decades that this album pays tribute to, but it has roots in the late 1960s and early ’70s, nonetheless. Style-wise, the song has me thinking of an oddity from 1970 called “Little Green Bag,” by a Dutch band, the George Baker Selection. If the name doesn’t ring a bell, go to YouTube and play the song. It’s a kick. And so is “Fade Away.” Cushman’s song presents a surreal melding of mid-and-late 1960s British mod-pop and current day Indie folk/rock. The words are a strange mixture, too, of what some might hear as cynicism, or gloom, and what others may interpret as merely accepting life’s terms (“See that this space we occupy today will be a memory after we walk away / And no one can stay, no, we’re here just to fade away / In time, we’ll fade away”). This goes for everyone, as the refrain at the song’s conclusion tells us. Like the message or not, the melody and production are infectious.
Lost in the Crowd dares not try to appease any current trends in music. It keeps its focus on the rich diversity of past trends. If you’re old enough to fondly remember the Sixties and Seventies, or if you want to get a crash lesson in that musical era, listening to Lost in the Crowd will be an hour well spent. If you prefer to only indulge in your favorite flavor of music – modern country, hip hop, rap, heavy metal, or what-have-you, then this won’t be entirely to your liking. And, as stated, if you want an album filled with happy love songs, I don’t expect it will be to your liking, either. But it was to my liking. I can’t imagine I’ll be alone.
– Patti Winter, Jacobs/Brown Media Group review team.
Cushman has a knack for appealing melodies, married effectively to his sometimes offbeat, sometimes dark lyrics, like the two songs that close out the album. The first, “Take a Risk (Lay Your Love Down)” (Track 15), is reminiscent of a style of songwriting that peaked from 1967 through 1969, and can be appreciated in the titles referenced earlier by the Beatles, Status Quo, Donovan, and Small Faces, and other melodic curiosities such as songwriter Jimmy Webb’s epic “MacArthur Park.” It’s hard to nail down “Take a Risk” to a specific category of music, but the performances on this track make me think of a breathy Tom Jones, as in “Delilah,” and an equally breathy Sue Thompson (“Sad Movies Make Me Cry”), with an Indie folk/rock 1960s retro arrangement. If that sounds weird, wait until you hear the lyrics, which begins with “Looking out your window, you ask what the day is for / This room is closing in on you like the world outside your door / You’re living a nightmare of terror, tormented by your dreams / They taunt your every error but never suggest a better means”).
“Fade Away,” which ends the album, almost seems beyond the music decades that this album pays tribute to, but it has roots in the late 1960s and early ’70s, nonetheless. Style-wise, the song has me thinking of an oddity from 1970 called “Little Green Bag,” by a Dutch band, the George Baker Selection. If the name doesn’t ring a bell, go to YouTube and play the song. It’s a kick. And so is “Fade Away.” Cushman’s song presents a surreal melding of mid-and-late 1960s British mod-pop and current day Indie folk/rock. The words are a strange mixture, too, of what some might hear as cynicism, or gloom, and what others may interpret as merely accepting life’s terms (“See that this space we occupy today will be a memory after we walk away / And no one can stay, no, we’re here just to fade away / In time, we’ll fade away”). This goes for everyone, as the refrain at the song’s conclusion tells us. Like the message or not, the melody and production are infectious.
Lost in the Crowd dares not try to appease any current trends in music. It keeps its focus on the rich diversity of past trends. If you’re old enough to fondly remember the Sixties and Seventies, or if you want to get a crash lesson in that musical era, listening to Lost in the Crowd will be an hour well spent. If you prefer to only indulge in your favorite flavor of music – modern country, hip hop, rap, heavy metal, or what-have-you, then this won’t be entirely to your liking. And, as stated, if you want an album filled with happy love songs, I don’t expect it will be to your liking, either. But it was to my liking. I can’t imagine I’ll be alone.
– Patti Winter, Jacobs/Brown Media Group review team.
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