Lee Hazlewood has terminal cancer, and if he wants his last hurrah to involve his 7-year-old granddaughter singing “Some Velvet Morning,” more power to him. After all, the man never was one to stick to the rules.

Much like the rest of his career, this album reflects a mash-up of styles with heavy country-western influence: the circus waltz of “Fred Freud,” the sobbing, power-ballad flair of “Please Come to Boston,” the combination of wry spoken word with a country-western base on “White People Thing.”

Hazlewood chooses to open the album with the caf

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