Awash in frustrated, hard-fought feeling, steeped in taciturn Midwestern reticence – not dour, just parsimonious: bandanas, fleece vests, three-day beard. A baritone like a cracking callous. Travel-weary but not world-. Ineluctable immediacy of incoherence. The lonely inarticulacy of love, lust and longing. Folk made by folks who make folks uncomfortable.
Reminds us of: Springsteen’s Devils & Dust, if Springsteen was stoned and tongue-tied | Latter-day Ani Difranco | Pet Sounds, though not in the way you might expect
Black Swans: (MySpace)