ever flashy, Tom Paxton's majesty has always been in uncovering the sad, simple beauty in life. OUTWARD BOUND came out in 1966, at the height of the folk revival, and is a perfect testament to the singer-songwriter's knack for the softly brilliant. It opens with a Phil Ochs-esque tale of longing and wandering, "Leaving London", and flits between traditional folk and his own firmly revival path, weaving the two into his own tempered narrative. The album closes with a genuine classic, the elegiac sea-shanty-cum-renaissance-ballad title track, an arching, aching song that captures the easy, gentle genius of Paxton, an unadorned yet affecting troubadour.|

Rovi

It was 1966, but on his third album Paxton was still holding out against the overwhelming trend among folkies to electrify. Outward Bound features just him, second guitarist Barry Kornfeld, and bassist Bill Lee. Though it was just his third LP, it had the style and song mix that listeners already had come to expect from the singer. There is material meant to inspire social change and dissent ("Don't You Let Nobody Turn You 'Round"), subtle anti-war statements ("My Son, John"), gentle love songs ("One Time and One Time Only"), dated topical satire ("Is This Any Way to Run an Airline?" and "Talking Pop Art"), and tunes about roaming and wandering ("Leaving London," "Outward Bound" and "I Followed Her into the West"). What the album does not have are compositions on the level of his best early songs, like "The Last Thing on My Mind" and "Bottle of Wine." If you want earnest romantic folk, you're much better off with Gordon Lightfoot or Ian & Sylvia; if you want stirring protest folk, you'd do much better with Phil Ochs and early Bob Dylan; and if you want humor, the Holy Modal Rounders, or for that matter, Ochs and Dylan are preferable. The best overlooked tune here might be "I Believe, I Do," on which Paxton assumes (satirically) the role of the average unquestioning American with a fervor that is slightly chilling. ~ Richie Unterberger

Rovi