Boris McCutcheon

"After a while, when the Salt Licks had tuned up, Boris stepped to the mike. He was wearing a pork-pie hat and seemed painfully shy. He kicked around, fiddled with his guitar. Then he shrugged off his nerves and started singing “Volcanic Wind.”

I saw a crazy lady
On the side of the road Fading the coyote’s echo . . .

A month earlier, I’d spent long afternoons wandering Petro- glyph Natural Park, west of Albuquerque—a haunting place with a line of volcanic cinder cones punctuating its lunar landscape. I’d circumambulated the park more than once, pausing to investigate its lava caves. At the end of “Volcanic Wind,” when a muttering Boris admitted that he’d written the song in that same park, I was startled. A little later, when he launched into “Caves of Burgundy,” a Gaelic ode of underworld love and heal- ing co-written with his buddy Mark Lewis, I was hooked. This guy was locked in. To what, exactly, I couldn’t say. Only that it ran very deep." - NEW MEXICO MAGAZINE (forthcoming, December 2013)

Europe loves Americana almost as much as Santa Fe does. Case in point: Boris McCutcheon & the Salt Licks’ new album, Wheel of Life, was, as of press time, in the top 10 on the Euro Americana Chart, which is compiled by music industry types in Europe (apparently those who aren’t too busy listening to Falco).

Wheel takes on a good chunk of country/Americana offshoots, from slick and bright country to bluesy, soulful balladry and more. The album is a mishmash of styles that manages to come together into another stellar effort from this revered local songwriter and his band.

“I have a hard time sticking to one thing,” McCutcheon says. “I don’t want to bore myself or the people playing with me, so I wind up with this whole kaleidoscope of music thing.”

For Wheel, McCutcheon enlisted a who’s-who of local talent. This includes his core band (bassist Susan Hyde-Holmes, guitarist Brett Davis, and Kevin Zoernig on keyboards and various other instruments); along with Paul Feathericci, Jason Aspeslet and James Berlin on drums; Stephanie Hatfield on backup vocals; and members of Zoernig’s family playing strings and pan flutes.

The album opens with a bang on “What Ails You,” a fast-paced, honky-tonk number that asks the age-old question, “What’s your problem?” Slide guitar swings behind the slight rasp of McCutcheon’s vocal work, while the beat drives the song along into cheerful, poppy territory. It is the perfect album opener: a semi-angry story to get the listener pumped.

Lyrically, Wheel culls from life in New Mexico and Northern California. In “California,” McCutcheon recalls living there. He wistfully thinks about his youth, despite having felt out of place. Almost regretfully he sings, “All them golden fields to me felt foreign and unreal/So I left that lovely land called California.” “Bad Roads Good People” explores the rejuvenating power of his family through heartfelt lyricism.

“I’ll call it a country album because it’s a series of stories,” McCutcheon says. “And, really, country music has always been about the art of storytelling.”

Through the sheer poetry of his words, McCutcheon captures the essence of both country and Americana: an introspective glimpse into American life.

The album also features a handful of well-chosen covers, including a beautiful rendition of Townes Van Zandt’s “No Place to Fall”; “Mark Twain,” a bitter love song by longtime McCutcheon friend Mark Ray Lewis; and a live version of “Lee Harvey Was a Friend of Mine,” a tale penned by Austin country-rock troubadour Homer Henderson that humanizes John F Kennedy’s assassin.

There’s a lot to like on Wheel, and there’s a whole hell of a lot going on. The intense level of instrumentation and lyricism takes some undivided attention to pick up. From the ethereal strings on “Clan of the Sunflower” to the gripping and tragic tale behind a young man drowning in “Gila,” this set of new songs from McCutcheon and crew reverberates long after the album ends.
- Santa Fe Reporter

Europe loves Americana almost as much as Santa Fe does. Case in point: Boris McCutcheon & the Salt Licks’ new album, Wheel of Life, was, as of press time, in the top 10 on the Euro Americana Chart, which is compiled by music industry types in Europe (apparently those who aren’t too busy listening to Falco).

Wheel takes on a good chunk of country/Americana offshoots, from slick and bright country to bluesy, soulful balladry and more. The album is a mishmash of styles that manages to come together into another stellar effort from this revered local songwriter and his band.

“I have a hard time sticking to one thing,” McCutcheon says. “I don’t want to bore myself or the people playing with me, so I wind up with this whole kaleidoscope of music thing.”

For Wheel, McCutcheon enlisted a who’s-who of local talent. This includes his core band (bassist Susan Hyde-Holmes, guitarist Brett Davis, and Kevin Zoernig on keyboards and various other instruments); along with Paul Feathericci, Jason Aspeslet and James Berlin on drums; Stephanie Hatfield on backup vocals; and members of Zoernig’s family playing strings and pan flutes.

The album opens with a bang on “What Ails You,” a fast-paced, honky-tonk number that asks the age-old question, “What’s your problem?” Slide guitar swings behind the slight rasp of McCutcheon’s vocal work, while the beat drives the song along into cheerful, poppy territory. It is the perfect album opener: a semi-angry story to get the listener pumped.

Lyrically, Wheel culls from life in New Mexico and Northern California. In “California,” McCutcheon recalls living there. He wistfully thinks about his youth, despite having felt out of place. Almost regretfully he sings, “All them golden fields to me felt foreign and unreal/So I left that lovely land called California.” “Bad Roads Good People” explores the rejuvenating power of his family through heartfelt lyricism.

“I’ll call it a country album because it’s a series of stories,” McCutcheon says. “And, really, country music has always been about the art of storytelling.”

Through the sheer poetry of his words, McCutcheon captures the essence of both country and Americana: an introspective glimpse into American life.

The album also features a handful of well-chosen covers, including a beautiful rendition of Townes Van Zandt’s “No Place to Fall”; “Mark Twain,” a bitter love song by longtime McCutcheon friend Mark Ray Lewis; and a live version of “Lee Harvey Was a Friend of Mine,” a tale penned by Austin country-rock troubadour Homer Henderson that humanizes John F Kennedy’s assassin.

There’s a lot to like on Wheel, and there’s a whole hell of a lot going on. The intense level of instrumentation and lyricism takes some undivided attention to pick up. From the ethereal strings on “Clan of the Sunflower” to the gripping and tragic tale behind a young man drowning in “Gila,” this set of new songs from McCutcheon and crew reverberates long after the album ends.
- Santa Fe Reporter

A compelling American songwriter celebrated in Holland for years, Boris McCutcheon is, in the States, an undiscovered talent in the footsteps of John Prine, Steve Earle, Lyle Lovett, Bruce Springsteen, Bob Dylan, Neil Young, Guy Clark, and Elvis Costello. He is a songwriter with an offbeat and often dark sense of life, death, and love. But because he’s a Romantic writer, many of McCutcheon’ songs believe that goodness will win out in the end. The land will shelter us and we will shelter the land, we will be lost and found in the wild woods, we will dream of demons and angels, and we will finally fall in love.

Boris’ songs are not always narrative in structure. Sometimes stories are just broached, teased out, allowed to develop slowly. Sometimes there are only images and moods, cryptically available. Boris’ dense pictures and hard-to-decipher metaphors ask a lot of the thinking listener. But it is clear that this is exactly what his fans like about him. Boris is a puzzle to be solved. In fact, it’s a deal between artist and audience. He really does want the listeners to enter his world; he wants to welcome in the good folks who take the trouble to travel down a really rough road – as he sings in “Bad Road, Good People”.

As a giant reward for figuring out his writing, Boris gives up some joyous, fast, dancing country rock tunes along with his mid-tempo ballads and folk songs. These quirky songs depict hippie softball games, spring plowing with boxsprings, volcanic winds in the high desert, a dropped set of keys down a city sewer, 7-foot mullein plants, pirates coming ashore for gold, the art of chopping wood on a Cape Cod island, the long road home to a welcoming family. The music is superlative, and nothing is held back.

Boris has an unusual gift. His art is “outsider” art. But his art derives from a tradition of deeply rooted American-grown music. This paradox delivers beautiful, strong music.

He fills you with a feeling for simpler days -- when people could live off the land by the phases of the moon, find spiritual solace in the mountain’s Ponderosa Pines or the sands of deserted beaches, and make connections away from the frenetic main stream of contemporary life.
Try these songs on for size. They make you dance and sing. They help you live right. They bring you home.

Melissa Totten
Unpublished Bio
- Melissa Totten, independent writer, curator

"The essential chaos, the human nexus of it, was Boris himself, Boris of the broken trucks and disconnected phones, of the lost capos, of the songs scrawled feverishly on the backs of receipts smeared with motor oil and stashed in the tackle box with his harmonicas." (Steve Almond, ROCK AND ROLL WILL SAVE YOUR LIFE, Random House, 2010)
- Random House, 2010

"This Holliston native made one of the great local indie records of the
year, "When We Were Big." He backed it up with a superb outing at
Toad, where he rocked at times like an outlaw Townes Van Zandt, at
others like a jaunty John Hiatt or a latter-day protege of Bob Dylan and
the Band. The song "Hurt" was a stunner, showing McCutcheon's deep emotional range, but he also let up and threw in a crowd-pleasing
cover of Johnny Cash's "Folsom Prison Blues" as the night hit its climax.
And guitarist Austin Nevins added glimmering fills throughout."
- Steve Morse

"This Holliston native made one of the great local indie records of the
year, "When We Were Big." He backed it up with a superb outing at
Toad, where he rocked at times like an outlaw Townes Van Zandt, at
others like a jaunty John Hiatt or a latter-day protege of Bob Dylan and
the Band. The song "Hurt" was a stunner, showing McCutcheon's deep emotional range, but he also let up and threw in a crowd-pleasing
cover of Johnny Cash's "Folsom Prison Blues" as the night hit its climax.
And guitarist Austin Nevins added glimmering fills throughout."
- Steve Morse

With a name like Boris, you'd better be good at whatever it is you do. Fortunately for Boris McCutcheon, he's more than good at what he does, which is desert folkcore--Americana with a Southwestern bent and a railyard twist, what Howe Gelb might do some night among the saguaro with a hit of acid and a Neil Young bug up his ass. McCutcheon sounds as though you've heard him before (a little bit John Dee Graham, a little bit John Hiatt, perhaps) which, assuming you haven't, is one hell of a compliment. Dig for this Pete Weiss-produced gem. - Michael Henningsen, editor

With a name like Boris, you'd better be good at whatever it is you do. Fortunately for Boris McCutcheon, he's more than good at what he does, which is desert folkcore--Americana with a Southwestern bent and a railyard twist, what Howe Gelb might do some night among the saguaro with a hit of acid and a Neil Young bug up his ass. McCutcheon sounds as though you've heard him before (a little bit John Dee Graham, a little bit John Hiatt, perhaps) which, assuming you haven't, is one hell of a compliment. Dig for this Pete Weiss-produced gem. - Michael Henningsen, editor

A classic story: a boy discovers his guitar and travels the highway to discover life. Boris McCutcheon has put that stage behind him. The farmers' son returned to his roots in Mass after a stay in NM and CA and works there as a biologic farmer. He also writes lyrics such as for his debut CD: When We Were Big (Cactusman Records). McCutheon has just the right voice for a mix of folk, country and rock which he delivers with a flexible voice that does show signs of wear or plenty of cigarettes and whiskey. For the recording he went to the Wavelab Studios in Tucson, Arizona, where Neko Case, Evan Dando, Calexico and Steve Wynn started out. Also with McCutcheon, the studio's influence (or is it the desert?) can clearly be heard: for instance on the opening track Hitch A Ride (Ennio Moricone-guitars) and the beautiful, mysterious desert-instrumental (Slow Diablo), which turns at the end as an accelerated Diablo Waltz (after which is a hidden track with just bird sounds). If you would like to compare the album to a color, you should think of a rainbow. Rock, country and folk mixed with or compliment each other with dark, macaber songs full of sadness, which is colored in differently each time. Half way through we suddenly hear a soul song (Santa Rose Plums). Without selling the other songs short, this is the best part of the album. At that point you truly realize what a big talent this Boris McCutcheon is. Don't wait with buying this CD! - Altcountry Netherlands

When We Were Big is enough to make a self-respecting alt-country critic wish she hadn't washed the value out of phrases like "Americana," "good songwriting," "authentic," or even "unique." Using those words for Boris McCutcheon's album might make it seem like everything else, when in fact When We Were Big truly is an authentically earthy and unusual Americana album with good songs. More alt-country/western than alt-country, this offering is steeped in southwestern imagery. McCutcheon triggers all five senses as he ruminates on overripe plums, vegetable farms, cattle grids, green chile pie, and farmhands named Benito. McCutcheon took his New England band – including Jeff Berlin of Hybrasil and Pete Weiss – to record in Arizona, and the striking liner photos show his favorite taqueria, desert sunsets, and a cactus making obeisance on the dirt. "God's country is wide," he sings, rambly, twangy, raspy, and a little bruised. Richly orchestrated with all sorts of guitars, pedal and lap steel, dobro, bass, organs, and lots of snare and bass drums, the album is full of lost-love songs. However, they're resigned and descriptive rather than passionate, miserable, or confessional. McCutcheon avoids the cliches people generally employ in this kind of music, or he twists them, looking a gift horse in the eye instead of the mouth. In exchange, some of his images surprise – the couple in "Clumsy Kiss" uses a hot strawberry as an impromptu wedding ring. McCutcheon tends towards oblique poeticism, but he always makes his core meaning clear. Take "Sad Mountain": "An eye for an eye, what is that smell? And why do we put each other through hell, when between us our heart should be big enough." The song evokes '70s piano-driven country-rock ballads, and like most of McCutcheon's songs has great rhyme twists and a melody that just feels right. The album feels a little long, but who can say which tracks to cut? The only disappointment is the sleepy version of "Mole in the Ground," a traditional lament about an impossibly demanding woman. Similarly, the verses aren't as attention-getting as the choruses, but who can complain once you hit the payoff? "Idiot Lights" is the Johnny Cash song Johnny never wrote. "Santa Rosa Plums" has a deeply satisfying late-'60s soul groove, "Beautiful Prison" an irresistible tub-thumping bass drum. "Hurt" is weird but catchy (he's been hurt in an unusual way, and after the mention of whores blowing dandelions, I'm not sure I want to know the back-story). "Fine Suede" kicks up with a toe-tapping chorus you'll wish lasted longer. Quietest of the lot and the least western, "Meet Me," is spacey and spare, accompanied by two perfect xylophone tones and one vibrating chord. Even the instrumental "Diablo" waltzes are dramatic. My critical vocabulary departs me – this is really just a very good album. When We Were Big stands out from the rootsy songwriter stacks. - Danielle Dreilinger Northeast Performer/No Depression Correspondent

A classic story: a boy discovers his guitar and travels the highway to discover life. Boris McCutcheon has put that stage behind him. The farmers' son returned to his roots in Mass after a stay in NM and CA and works there as a biologic farmer. He also writes lyrics such as for his debut CD: When We Were Big (Cactusman Records). McCutheon has just the right voice for a mix of folk, country and rock which he delivers with a flexible voice that does show signs of wear or plenty of cigarettes and whiskey. For the recording he went to the Wavelab Studios in Tucson, Arizona, where Neko Case, Evan Dando, Calexico and Steve Wynn started out. Also with McCutcheon, the studio's influence (or is it the desert?) can clearly be heard: for instance on the opening track Hitch A Ride (Ennio Moricone-guitars) and the beautiful, mysterious desert-instrumental (Slow Diablo), which turns at the end as an accelerated Diablo Waltz (after which is a hidden track with just bird sounds). If you would like to compare the album to a color, you should think of a rainbow. Rock, country and folk mixed with or compliment each other with dark, macaber songs full of sadness, which is colored in differently each time. Half way through we suddenly hear a soul song (Santa Rose Plums). Without selling the other songs short, this is the best part of the album. At that point you truly realize what a big talent this Boris McCutcheon is. Don't wait with buying this CD! - Altcountry Netherlands

When he left his boyhood home in Holliston to study organic farming in Santa Cruz, Calif., Boris McCutcheon was prepared to give up the guitar of his adolescence for the pragmatic tools of adulthood. Roughly 15 years later, McCutcheon has released his superb second album, "When We Were Big," and lined up a slew of local shows including a CD-release party Saturday at the Independent in Somerville, and a residency on July 25 and every other Friday night in August at Matt Murphy's Pub in Brookline. In a photograph for the album, McCutcheon holds an acoustic guitar like an old friend. He's smiling. The pull of making music, it seems, was just too strong.
But it's not as if the outdoor elements -- land, soil, sky -- intrinsic to farming no longer occupy McCutcheon's life. They do, only now they play a different part. "When We Were Big" was recorded in the desert sprawl of Tucson, and the disc, roomy, rustic, and organic, sounds like it.
"I love the Southwest," says McCutcheon, who recorded "Big" with Boston producer and occasional bandmate Pete Weiss and Tucson producer-engineer Craig Schumacher (Neko Case, Calexico, Steve Wynn).
"It's my well of inspiration," McCutcheon says. "I really wanted this album to be recorded there, and it definitely helped to get out of the craziness of Boston. There was great chemistry, and I think that was the secret -- getting people out of their usual, mundane, everyday existence."
Backed by a top-shelf band that included drummer Jeff Berlin (Hybrasil, Duke Levine), multi-instrumentalist Brett Davis, keyboardist Nick Luca (Calexico, Giant Sand, John Doe), and Schumacher and Weiss, "Big" rings true with terrific roots-rocking performances, not the least of which come from McCutcheon's conversational songwriting and warmly weathered vocals.
It's a gritty and expressively soulful voice, similar in texture to Tim Easton's or John Hiatt's, that has stood McCutcheon in good stead on the folk circuit. He's a favorite at Cambridge's Club Passim and has a following on Cape Cod as an acoustic performer. Although it has quieter tones, the new album's alt-country shadings and rock attitude may surprise some fans. "I had a lot of bad experiences with flaky band members in Santa Fe, so when I got back to Boston, I took on music as a solo guy," he says. "I listen to a lot of really old-timey folk music, and so I went in that direction. I tried to be a folkie, I guess, but let's face it: a lot of the stuff I write is not really folk music. It has more of a rock element."
Still, McCutcheon says he feels at home on a folk stage, a small pub, or a rock club.
"I wanted [the album] to be fun, to be diverse," he says. "I wanted you to be able to turn it on and play poker or clean the house. I wanted to make an album you could get lost in, like an old Neil Young album. And I wanted it to rock a little bit."
- Jonathan Perry, Correspondent

Singer-songwriter-acoustic guitarist Boris McCutcheon perpetrates a laid backed, rootsy delivery on his latest 14-track CD "When We Were Big". Powered by a tattered, torn, rusty old voice that falls somewhere in the same realms of Tom Waits and Frank Morey is McCutcheon's main focal point. His Bob Dylan-esque harmonica playing as well as eclectic accompaniment by a host of players on B3, banjo, mandolin, Fender Rhodes, upright bass and pedal steel also adds charm to this poet's compositions.
Not your typical folk fare, McCutcheon could very well have lumbered out of the Appalachian Mountains with his material and delivery. Earthy and full of imagery and emotion, McCutcheon creates masterpieces in "Hitch a Ride," the hillbilly twang of "Idiot Lights," "Sad Mountain," the Neil Young inspired "Gift Horse," "Meet Me," and the cool instrumental strut of "Diablo Waltz." This material could very well garner Boris McCutcheon a well-deserved nomination for a Boston Music Award. Outstanding!
- Douglas Sloan

When he left his boyhood home in Holliston to study organic farming in Santa Cruz, Calif., Boris McCutcheon was prepared to give up the guitar of his adolescence for the pragmatic tools of adulthood. Roughly 15 years later, McCutcheon has released his superb second album, "When We Were Big," and lined up a slew of local shows including a CD-release party Saturday at the Independent in Somerville, and a residency on July 25 and every other Friday night in August at Matt Murphy's Pub in Brookline. In a photograph for the album, McCutcheon holds an acoustic guitar like an old friend. He's smiling. The pull of making music, it seems, was just too strong.
But it's not as if the outdoor elements -- land, soil, sky -- intrinsic to farming no longer occupy McCutcheon's life. They do, only now they play a different part. "When We Were Big" was recorded in the desert sprawl of Tucson, and the disc, roomy, rustic, and organic, sounds like it.
"I love the Southwest," says McCutcheon, who recorded "Big" with Boston producer and occasional bandmate Pete Weiss and Tucson producer-engineer Craig Schumacher (Neko Case, Calexico, Steve Wynn).
"It's my well of inspiration," McCutcheon says. "I really wanted this album to be recorded there, and it definitely helped to get out of the craziness of Boston. There was great chemistry, and I think that was the secret -- getting people out of their usual, mundane, everyday existence."
Backed by a top-shelf band that included drummer Jeff Berlin (Hybrasil, Duke Levine), multi-instrumentalist Brett Davis, keyboardist Nick Luca (Calexico, Giant Sand, John Doe), and Schumacher and Weiss, "Big" rings true with terrific roots-rocking performances, not the least of which come from McCutcheon's conversational songwriting and warmly weathered vocals.
It's a gritty and expressively soulful voice, similar in texture to Tim Easton's or John Hiatt's, that has stood McCutcheon in good stead on the folk circuit. He's a favorite at Cambridge's Club Passim and has a following on Cape Cod as an acoustic performer. Although it has quieter tones, the new album's alt-country shadings and rock attitude may surprise some fans. "I had a lot of bad experiences with flaky band members in Santa Fe, so when I got back to Boston, I took on music as a solo guy," he says. "I listen to a lot of really old-timey folk music, and so I went in that direction. I tried to be a folkie, I guess, but let's face it: a lot of the stuff I write is not really folk music. It has more of a rock element."
Still, McCutcheon says he feels at home on a folk stage, a small pub, or a rock club.
"I wanted [the album] to be fun, to be diverse," he says. "I wanted you to be able to turn it on and play poker or clean the house. I wanted to make an album you could get lost in, like an old Neil Young album. And I wanted it to rock a little bit."
- Jonathan Perry, Correspondent

In order to capture that idyllic alt-country-folk vibe, Boston MA musician Boris McCutcheon could only think of going to one place that would provide the perfect vibe — the desert. So along with area co-producer/recordist Pete Weiss, Boris headed to Tucson where nothing but isolation, sand, intense heat and x-ray sunlight would coat his songs with the wide-open space and sweaty authenticity.
And to add even more flavour, the two enlisted musicians from the Calexico/Giant Sand contingent as well as the recordist for Neko Case to create a spectacular yet mellow masterpiece that comes across as a Steve Earle musical affair fusing with the looseness of a mid-era Bob Dylan.
What is great about this album is that it sounds as if everyone is in their place, and no one is striving to break new ground — instead, they water the dry and proven ground with an intense amount of soul.
Flying in and around Boris's sometimes sad, introspective and peace-finding lyrics are a whirlwind of rusty sounding instruments that grind like buzzards across the steam rising from the vocals — from sharp old-school plate-reverberated guitars (which were perhaps plugged into a cactus) to tin shed slide guitars, dusty harmonicas and banjos.
McCutcheon certainly is a musical vanguard in his own right — he tosses ego out the window and equally marries acoustics, thoughts, and traditional instruments into a tried, tested and proven genre of music and breathes new life into it.
- Roman Sokal

Miles of Music
"Rich and gruff like Nebraska-era Springsteen with a swamp rock edge, the somewhat weathered voice of Boris McCutcheon is the perfect rusty vehicle for his conversational songwriting style."
- Miles of Music

In order to capture that idyllic alt-country-folk vibe, Boston MA musician Boris McCutcheon could only think of going to one place that would provide the perfect vibe — the desert. So along with area co-producer/recordist Pete Weiss, Boris headed to Tucson where nothing but isolation, sand, intense heat and x-ray sunlight would coat his songs with the wide-open space and sweaty authenticity.
And to add even more flavour, the two enlisted musicians from the Calexico/Giant Sand contingent as well as the recordist for Neko Case to create a spectacular yet mellow masterpiece that comes across as a Steve Earle musical affair fusing with the looseness of a mid-era Bob Dylan.
What is great about this album is that it sounds as if everyone is in their place, and no one is striving to break new ground — instead, they water the dry and proven ground with an intense amount of soul.
Flying in and around Boris's sometimes sad, introspective and peace-finding lyrics are a whirlwind of rusty sounding instruments that grind like buzzards across the steam rising from the vocals — from sharp old-school plate-reverberated guitars (which were perhaps plugged into a cactus) to tin shed slide guitars, dusty harmonicas and banjos.
McCutcheon certainly is a musical vanguard in his own right — he tosses ego out the window and equally marries acoustics, thoughts, and traditional instruments into a tried, tested and proven genre of music and breathes new life into it.
- Roman Sokal

boris is a beautiful writer, as steve almond warned me he was, and i appreciate that the music is as emotionally...available as it is. it is dry and raw in exactly the right way. not everyone can get away with that, but when it works it really works. - Joe Henry, author, songwriter

boris is a beautiful writer, as steve almond warned me he was, and i appreciate that the music is as emotionally...available as it is. it is dry and raw in exactly the right way. not everyone can get away with that, but when it works it really works. - Joe Henry, author, songwriter