Before I launch into the meat of the review, know this: I am from Brooklyn. I am, in fact, from Sheepshead Bay and went fishing regularly with my father on the very boats mentioned in this piece. We used to buy our fish caught by the mates from the piers. For a brief period, I dreamed of being a mate, gutting and cleaning fish and throwing the rest to the gulls as they followed the boat's wake hoping for scraps. So do I enter into this with a sentimental involvement with the subject matter? Oh yeah!

I did not know Frank Sabatino, but I could have. And how well I know that accent. And how well I know the loud sound of those crappy little boat engines as they strained to pull the boats through the soupy, polluted waters of the bay heading out to the cleaner (read edible fish) Jamaica Bay and Long Island.

This vignette paints the somber hues of a fading way of life. And it does this nicely. But it suffers from the problem of wanting to say too much in too short a time. As a result, it is cut too quickly. The fast pace does not allow the richly layered sound effects to establish themselves. The final result sounds a bit rushed, the effects, a little too loud, the music, distracting.

Nevertheless, it is engaging listening and would easily find a home into many a magazine program.