Can't Get Right With the Darkness
For the last song, everybody sings: “if I can't get right with the darkness / let me get right with the rest.” Before that, we sing about feathers on the river and stealing a dump truck. We know the heart is just a tenant. You can pack the rain in the smell of your coat, and we'll promise to meet you on the next bus out.
But first we're trapped in Joe Montana’s yokel war. In an old tire store, we dance with St Francis and his wolves.
Recorded live to a 1969 Ampex tape machine at Memphis Magnetic with Scott McEwen, the band’s second LP is both grizzlier and more anthemic, weeping and laughing while the fire jumps the river. Moving against grief, the songs try to get right with both the rest and the restlessness.
A second record is for dancing even deeper and the different towns you do it in, the strangers you made along the way and the candles you don't know how to hold.
Under the Radar said: “The whole band locks into place with near-effortless chemistry… weaving together galloping rhythms, warm honky-tonk guitars, and sweet three-part harmonies, a marriage of heartland rock and rambling alt-country.”
Alt77 said: “A glam-country hybrid that hits the soft spot … It’s poetry and it’s glamorous pop music.”
American Pancake said: “Heartfelt, busted up storytelling … wonderful glimpses of relationships full of longing, lost moments, bruised and torn.”
Various Small Flames said: “The songs are at once more rugged and joyous than the previous album, leaving no emotion untapped as they aim to paint the most vivid version of each story.”
