Farrelly’s self-titled debut album hit me with the weight of experience and the fire of protest. Coming from an artist who has been writing and performing for over 30 years, this record feels less like a typical debut and more like a cathartic release of stories that have been simmering for decades. Knowing that these songs came together during the isolation of COVID lockdowns gave the album an added layer of urgency for me. It is clear that when words failed in conversation, Farrelly let music do the heavy lifting.

The opening track, "Somewhere in Uvalde," immediately set the tone. Inspired by a haunting cartoon drawn in response to the 2022 school shooting, the song unfolds with strummed acoustic guitar, piano, and steady drums. As it built toward a powerful crescendo, I could not help but think of Gordon Lightfoot. There is a similar sense of storytelling through melody, and the guitar solo added just the right touch of flair. It was a strong introduction that made me curious about where the album would go next.

"Heroes of the Day" quickly became a favorite. The celebratory energy reminded me of Dropkick Murphys, especially with the burst of horns that I am pretty sure included a trombone. It was impossible not to get swept up in its spirit. "Sign of The Times" took a different turn, leaning into jangly guitars and melancholic melodies that instantly brought The Smiths to mind. The vocal lines stuck with me long after the song ended.

When "Almost Midnight" came on, I found myself moving without thinking. The jazzy walking bassline and playful vibe made it one of the most fun moments on the album. It felt like a late-night escape, and I loved every second of it.

​"Shadows" pulled me right back into that Smiths-like atmosphere with its infectious melodies and standout bassline. I especially appreciated how the vocals shifted into something more aggressive, giving the track an emotional edge. "One Night of Action" brought back the celebratory mood, and I could feel the excitement radiating through the performance. It was one of those tracks that made me want to experience it live.

"Feeding Time" kept things solid, while "Let Go" slowed the pace with a reflective, introspective tone. The hook on that track was irresistible and had me humming along almost immediately. The album closed with "Indignation," a track that stood out for its spoken word delivery. I enjoyed how it tied together the themes of protest and personal reflection, leaving me with a sense of both closure and lingering thought.

Overall, this album felt like a journey through Farrelly’s lived experience. It is raw, honest, and unafraid to shift between joy and sorrow. I found myself especially drawn to the more celebratory tracks where the horns lit up the arrangements, but every song offered something worth sitting with. This is the kind of record that reminds me why I listen to albums from start to finish. Great stuff and absolutely worth a listen.

Blackbird Rebellion’s fifth EP, Expedient Means, caught me by surprise in the best way. I have always admired bands that know how to evolve without losing their core. Since solidifying their lineup in 2020, Andreas Klingberg, Niclas Schwartau, Roland Fries, Ingo Juerss, and Jonas Danker sound like a group that has truly found its footing. This time, it feels like they allowed the songs to mature, tightening the arrangements while expanding their sound. The lyrics confront themes of impermanence, fragile relationships, existential fear, and the harsh realities of modern despotism, but the weight of these topics never overwhelms the music.

The opener, "Backfire," immediately set the tone for me. Its explosive energy drew me in, and at first, I heard flashes of AC/DC in the driving riffs. As the song progressed, the intricate guitar picking shifted the mood, adding a melodic depth that felt refreshing. I was hooked by Klingberg’s vocals right away, and the dynamic shifts kept me engaged throughout. The whispered breakdown around the three-minute mark was unexpected and gave the track an eerie, captivating moment.

When "A Blister On My Pinky Toe" began, I felt the energy surge forward. The track moves with intention, carrying a kinetic force that is hard to ignore. Some of the grooves reminded me of Radiohead, striking a balance between precision and a loose, human feel. The band sounded tight but never mechanical, which made the song even more compelling.

"Let It All Go" stood out as a personal favorite. The verse had a playful edge that recalled The Clash, but the track evolved into something richer. I was especially drawn to a section where reverb-soaked vocals, tom-driven rhythms, and layered harmonies came together in a beautifully textured moment.

"Phobophobia" explored fear from multiple angles, touching on aging, anxiety, and the quiet panic that can underlie daily life. The grooves were infectious, and I caught hints of The Strokes blended with the expansive soundscapes of U2. It was another reminder of how well this band works together, each member contributing without overshadowing the others.

The closing track, "House Of Cards," opened with a solitary tremolo guitar and reflective vocals, creating a sense of isolation and contemplation. I appreciated how the song lingered in that space before suddenly expanding into a powerful, driving force. The desert-like grooves gave it a wide, cinematic feel, and by the time it reached its soaring conclusion, it felt like the perfect way to end the EP.

Expedient Means reminded me of everything I love about rock music that embraces both grit and nuance. The ’90s influence is clear, but what impressed me most was how Blackbird Rebellion approached each track with fresh ideas while maintaining a cohesive identity. This is a band confident in their sound, offering a collection that feels both familiar and inventive. I will be returning to this EP whenever I want to hear how raw energy and thoughtful songwriting can coexist.

Kabinyo’s Thank You For Staying Alive serves as a companion piece to his previous album No More Chasing Ghosts. While the earlier record focused on the immediate aftermath of a breakup, this new collection offers a more reflective take on loss, healing, and the slow process of acceptance. Rather than dwelling in melancholy, Kabinyo leans into hope and personal growth, crafting an album that feels more grounded and emotionally resolved.

This shift is also mirrored in the production. Kabinyo moves away from dark synths and atmospheric gloom in favor of warm live instrumentation and soulful sample flipping. The beats feel tactile and lived-in, while the album’s collaborative nature introduces a variety of textures and voices. These features create a sense of community, as if the artist has invited others into his process of moving on.

The opener, “Written in the Wind,” featuring Tray Avlon and DirkvDM, sets a tone of emotional depth and musical richness. Acoustic guitar, layered vocals, and spoken word passages blend together in a genre-fluid structure that avoids predictability. Tray Avlon’s rapping is poised and confident, while the sung vocals offer a surprising contrast that adds dimension to the track.

“Sometimes I Feel Like,” featuring Kxne, taps into a laid-back groove with chopped samples that evoke the smoothness of 1990s hip-hop. The track draws subtle comparisons to A Tribe Called Quest, especially in how it balances soulfulness and rhythm. “Just to Impress” builds on that energy with a thick, phased bassline and inventive vocal delivery. The song’s momentum carries over into “Generations,” which plays with cinematic flourishes and unexpected vocal samples that sound like they could score an indie film. The rapping over these lush backdrops feels bold and emotionally present.

On “Good Enough For You,” Kabinyo channels a late-night R&B aesthetic with a sound that recalls the softness of 1980s soul. The track moves slowly but purposefully, allowing every element to breathe. “Creeping,” featuring Kxne and King Marino, introduces a smoky saxophone line that adds a sensual edge to the otherwise understated beat. The vocal performances throughout the song glide, complementing the instrumental without overwhelming it.

“Ocean (Far Away),” featuring noon, continues in a similarly dreamy vein. The female vocals hover just above a whisper, creating a mood that is both intimate and expansive. “Man in Moon,” featuring Tray Avlon, King Marino, and MagnumOneFive, leans into melancholic reflection. The performances carry a melodic weight that feels personal, yet universal. The emotional tone is reminiscent of 2Pac at at points.

“Flowers in the Snow” functions as a quiet interlude, consisting of ambient piano that invites introspection. The final track, “I’m Better Now,” featuring Alyssa Jane and Luc, closes the album on a triumphant note. The vocals soar, and the arrangement swells with dynamics that feel earned. It is a fitting conclusion for a record that charts a difficult emotional arc but lands in a place of light.

Thank You For Staying Alive focuses on transformation through clarity and connection. Kabinyo has assembled a work that feels personal without being insular. It is a testament to the power of healing, collaboration, and resilience.

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The albums Phantom Sightings and So Let Our Scars Fall in Love by Departure Street aka Allan J. Kimmel, operate less as collections of songs and more as extended states of mind. Based in Paris, the American-French guitarist draws from a broad and unconventional range of influences, including bossa nova, American blues, Middle Eastern modes, and the work of artists like John Renbourn, Jorma Kaukonen, João Gilberto, and Ira Kaplan. His music does not strive for virtuosity or spectacle. Instead, it leans into atmosphere and emotional presence, offering something quiet, textured, and unwavering in tone.

The album Phantom Sightings opens with “The sky a neon wound,” a sparse and contemplative piece built around reverb-soaked guitar. The sound feels suspended in air, unfolding slowly with delay and subtle movement. This approach defines much of the album’s structure. “Sending out curiosity waves” follows with a similar palette of plucked guitar and meditative pacing. “Fear is a thief” evokes a sense of drifting through a barren landscape, with guitar lines that feel lost but searching.

“A plaintive moan” introduces the use of slide guitar and brings a subtle haunting quality to the album’s texture. The atmosphere remains consistent on “Little things beginning,” which is one of the more emotionally soothing tracks on the album. “Date with a phantom” and “weeping jesus in agony” continue to explore this sonic space with patience and precision. The latter piece, in particular, introduces strange and unexpected imagery, with textures that suggest something skittering just beneath the surface. The album closes with “Eventually every glass is empty,” a highlight that offers a sense of beauty and calm. The track list flows with such cohesion that the album feels like a single continuous composition.

So Let Our Scars Fall in Love feels deeply connected to its predecessor. The structure remains similar, with gentle guitar work layered in ambient effects and a clear emphasis on mood over narrative. Rather than building to climaxes or dramatic shifts, the songs stretch out in steady, immersive waves. “Gentle hands inside this fire” uses soft, barely-there tones to construct a serene landscape. “Time is melted” presents a beautiful unraveling of sound, with guitar lines that disintegrate as they move forward. The track brings to mind the slow-fading work of William Basinski.

The title track continues this pattern, offering submerged textures that feel distant and ghostly. “Sinking is slower than falling” communicates a sense of solitude that permeates the entire album. “With eyes without light” develops gradually, maintaining a slow burn without any sharp transitions. “Killing places are most places” adds a more rugged, grounded sound, as though the music is being dragged across a physical surface. “To feel the sorrow of possessions” and “We all have our burdens” both retain the emotional tone of the record, with the latter introducing slightly more motion while preserving its emotional depth.

The final stretch of the album includes “Beyond this veil of tears” and “Into the abyss,” two tracks that continue to explore ambient fragility with a quiet intensity. The closer, “Some hope,” stands out for its subtle variation in guitar timing and tone. It offers a sense of movement without disturbing the album’s carefully constructed stillness.

The artists greatest strength across both albums is his commitment to cohesion. Each track feels purposefully placed within a larger arc. These are not albums built for quick consumption or isolated listening. They are meant to be experienced in full, from beginning to end, allowing the listener to be absorbed into a sustained emotional and sonic atmosphere. There is no urgency here. There is only patience, space, and the quiet resonance of something just out of reach.

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Torrance is a Boston, Massachusetts pop artist and fully-realized character in the tradition of David Bowie’s Ziggy Stardust, with many of the same hallmarks: danceable pop rock, outrageous costumes and a seemingly endless obsession with all things cosmic. His debut album is appropriately titled Galaxy of Punks, which features “tongue-in-cheek lyrical mantras through pop, rock, dance and indie-pop.” Though I’m hearing Bowie, Gary Numan and other icons of my 80’s youth, another reviewer noted debts to Lady Gaga, 2000’s glam rock and Charli XCX. 

Though many artists make concept albums, I’m truly impressed at the thematic unity of Matt Torrance’s tracks: his song titles include words like Cosmos, Megawatt, Star Child, Space Cadet, Mothership and Blast Off. Lest one thinks Torrance is an actual alien blissfully unconcerned with the problems of this earth, Torrance makes clear that his music is not always the easiest path to pursue. “I’ve lost a large amount of support since I began writing and producing music. Pop music in particular seems to hit some nerves. I’ve been told to my face: ‘When are you going to get serious and back to real singing, not this fluff?’ I’m doing what my heart wants. Singing my face off makes me feel like I have a purpose on earth.”

Though Torrance is clearly the main performer, he works with an alternating group of co-writers including Hashimoto Sumito, Dan Heroy, David Gale, Arnaud Guillaume, Emerson Oliver and Peter Pozgai.

“Cosmos” begins with an upbeat slice of percolating synth pop, featuring high-end vocals, staccato synths and LoFi drums. It’s the perfect statement of purpose for this space-centric artist: “There’s more to this life than your world / Come explore the Cosmos… I’ll take a shot of infinity, to spend these lifetimes with you.” At one point a voice says “Just do what you did” like a studio comment purposely left in. Love that stuff! “More Than Me” has a similar arrangement but is a bit more contemplative in tone, with Torrance verbally confirming that “Prince and Bowie laid the pathway” and actually name-checking Bowie’s classic “Life On Mars” track: “Just three minutes, how beautiful and sweet!” The choruses of “I want to believe” can’t help but call back to the famous X-Files tagline. Ultimately this is a song from Torrance to himself, both questioning and confirming his new musical path.

“Get It Baby” is an upbeat, funky rocker with sweet slabs of electric guitar, multiple call and response vocals and an amusing self-dialogue in the middle: “I’m lost in space / No oxygen, no water, no Tequila / I asked my self: hey self? / Yeah? / What would Jennifer Coolidge do?” There’s also a lyrics video. “Megawatt Energy” feels very modern pop-rock with razor-sharp electric guitar and unflagging, melodic vocals from our Star. The choruses of “I like it, I like it” just scream Chart Topper. “Star Child” fits the outer space theme but is actually a bittersweet love song, hanging on to your partner desperately within a world gone bad. I’ll note that Torrance’s overlapping lead and backing vocals are quite effective here, as they have been and will continue to be. 

The title track “Galaxy of Punks” is tight, danceable funk that amusingly looks down on the human race, while celebrating “us” at the very same time. “Space Cadet (I’ll Walk The Moon)” is a soaring, celebratory ode to cosmic consciousness (with a quick Star Wars reference!) which also refers to an earthly life of partying. “I don’t know where I am half the time / I have every intention to fulfill my commitments / but somehow I just get high / Higher and higher…”

There’s more (oh, SO much more!) but hopefully this review’s enough to get you into the Head Space to experience this cool and dedicated artist!

Bellhead is a Chicago-based goth rock duo with one of the greatest taglines ever: “Two basses and a drum machine. No guitar, No BS.” Their newest release is an EP titled Threats, and given the atmosphere of menace the songs create, that title seems perfectly apt! Bellhead is comprised of Karen Righeimer (Low Bass/Vocals) and Ivan Russia (High Bass/Vocals/Drum Programming). The band has toured both in the U.S. and internationally, appeared on multiple compilations, created high-profile remixes and carry a clutch of positive reviews, including from this very site. 

The band describe their music as “crossing over fan bases and genres from the post-punk, gothic, industrial, alternative and metal scenes.” One astute reviewer noted that their songs “balance aggression with catchiness.” I may not be the sharpest listener on earth, but I was totally surprised to see no guitars or live drums listed after hearing these songs three times! This EP was recorded and mixed by Neil Strauch, with mastering by Carl Saff.  

Playing the title track “Threats” yet again, I can see how I might have mistaken the high bass for electric guitar: vocalist Ivan Russia sings in SUCH a low register that everything else sounds higher! We’re talking lower than James Hetfield or Tom Waits combined (if you’re really inspired, compare him to Peter Gabriel’s Slipperman in “Lamb Lies Down on Broadway”). The lyrics Russia conveys are very much the equal of his menacing tone: “She wants noise / She likes the thrill of the car crash / Likes it when the blood starts to rush…” Creepy though this is, I really like the clever chorus of “If I can’t break your heart than no one will” which can be read in so many ways!

“Heart Shaped Hole” has an interesting title, as you expect the song to be a sort of Nirvana-Hole hybrid. However, the title track sounded much more like Nirvana, while this one is a powerful, relentless pile driver of goth metal, with an absolutely surprising chorus of Queen-like voices. I officially absolve myself for mistaking the lead bass for guitar, as it carries just enough high-end and raw fuzz power to pass in any context. “Shutters + Stutters” opens with an interesting collage of shortwave radio voices. Russia recites poetry-like lyrics alongside Karen Righeimer atop a stark Cobain-like arrangement, with that classic quiet-loud dynamic. I can’t swear to it but I suspect the group snuck in a keyboard for this track!

“No Dead Horses” begins with a recitation, an angry crow and stark drums. This is a good a place to mention how great these digital drums sound, while never showboating by doing anything humanly impossible. The track has a slow grinding build, with some of the coolest mixing and arranging choices: Russia and Righeimer alternating vocals, then joining together, power chords intruding, keyboards tinkling. “Double Jeopardy” is the final proper track, and feels like a tribute to Juliette Lewis from “Natural Born Killers.” It’s a great song with a vocal chorus way above a whisper, but with a bell chime that sounds exactly like someone’s at my front door (thanks, people!). The EP concludes with two remixes by Stabbing Westward and Clubdrugs, respectively. 

I’ll admit that the growling aggression of these songs put me off initially, but with repeated plays I began to appreciate the band’s artistic purpose and would up really enjoying it. If nothing else, Bellhead certainly demonstrate the kind of powerful music that can be made with fairly stripped-down tools. A cool find!

Noxious, the latest release from Paranormal Arson, is an uncompromising plunge into industrial chaos. Based in Antigonish, Nova Scotia, this extreme metal project blends death metal, sludge, harsh noise, grind, punk, and industrial into a sound that feels less like a fusion and more like a demolition. Across thirteen tracks, the album weaponizes distortion and intensity. It creates a sonic environment where unease is not only present but fully intentional.

The album begins with “Administrative Message,” which introduces a disorienting atmosphere full of static, distortion, and anxiety. It functions less as a standalone track and more as a warning siren for what follows. The transition into “Hook, Line, Sinker” is abrupt and overwhelming. The track sounds like being caught in a mechanical storm, with metallic elements spinning violently in all directions. The percussion pounds without relief, creating a sensation of being dragged deeper into chaos.

“The Suffocating Doom of Nothingness” slows the tempo but remains dense and punishing. The arrangement crawls through a swamp of sludge and white noise. The rhythm stops and starts in a way that feels unstable, as if the song is collapsing in real time. At several points, the track gives the sensation of being pulled into a sonic vortex. “Air Quality Advisory” lasts under a minute and serves as a jagged transition. It is a burst of noise that fractures the album’s pacing in an intentional and jarring way.

The centerpiece of the album may be “A Bloated Sac of Noxious Gas and Bile.” While the song follows a more traditional structure, it still brims with distortion and violence. The vocals are buried beneath layers of sonic grime, which adds to the track’s oppressive atmosphere. Around the three-minute mark, the vocals and noise swell together, reaching a peak that is both overwhelming and oddly captivating.

“The Leech” delivers a brief but potent burst of sound, fluctuating between ascension and collapse. “Ad majórem Dei glóriam” continues the barrage, pushing volume and distortion to even more aggressive levels. “The Echo of Shredded Vestibular Folds (Swallowed in the Deep Abyss)” is one of the fastest and most technically blistering tracks on the album. The pacing and transitions are executed with precision, and the song maintains its intensity without becoming monotonous.

“Emergency Action Notification” sustains the momentum with sharp edges and constant movement. “Fuck.” stretches over seven minutes and serves as one of the album’s most intense pieces. The duration allows the track to build and mutate, eventually reaching a fever pitch that feels both exhausting and cathartic.

“You,” featuring Celine Myette, leans into minimalist drone and white noise. The track channels the slow, immersive dread of Sunn O))) while introducing a new texture into the album’s harsh palette. The closing track, “signalnotfound.wav,” dissolves into a deflated soundscape. It sounds like the last gasp of a machine shutting down, unsettling and unresolved.

Noxious is not designed for comfort. It offers no reprieve and no pretense of accessibility. Paranormal Arson has created a relentless and intentional collapse. The album operates at the intersection of genre obliteration and psychological warfare. For those willing to embrace the chaos, it delivers an experience that is brutally immersive and sonically unflinching.

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For Dylan, Forever Ago, the debut album from Platitudes, is a poignant meditation on loss, resilience, and the winding process of emotional recovery. The album draws from a broad palette of sounds including alt-country, classical, blues, pop, and folk. It nods to the introspective lyricism of Bon Iver, the narrative weight of Bill Callahan, and the melodic openness of Wilco. The result is a collection that resists easy classification and offers a deeply personal, stylistically varied reflection on grief.

The opening track, “Time to Come Home,” introduces the album with warmth and restraint. A gentle arrangement of piano, acoustic guitar, upright bass, and drums creates a soft foundation for the vocals to stretch out across. The lyrics are vulnerable and reflective, offering an intimate beginning that invites the listener into the emotional space of the record.

“Steel Umbrella” shifts the tempo and introduces a livelier energy. The full drum set drives the rhythm forward, while touches of organ and rich background vocals give the track a vintage soul feel. There is a slight 1950s and 1960s inflection in the instrumentation and vocal delivery, making it one of the more upbeat and charming tracks on the album.

With “Fade Away,” the tone darkens. The arrangement carries a heavier emotional weight, and the vocal style evokes the brooding presence of Nick Cave. The instrumentation remains grounded, but the atmosphere is more shadowed and reflective. “Floating Free” brings the listener back into a softer emotional register. It mirrors the mood and instrumentation of the opener, offering a quiet reprieve with its stripped-down sound and sense of stillness.

“No Nearer Getting Over You” stands as one of the most emotionally devastating songs on the album. The lyrics are raw and honest, touching on the disorientation that comes with grief and the difficulty of letting go. “Grey Light of Dawn” introduces a different vocalist, and the result is dreamlike and cinematic. It is a standout moment that feels slightly surreal, yet grounded in its emotional truth.

“Numbered Days” continues the theme of loss and mourning. The arrangement is minimal, allowing the lyrics to take center stage. It is a tender and sorrowful track that offers no easy answers. “Learning to Live Again” introduces a duet that leans into theatricality, resembling a moment pulled from a stage production. It is heartfelt and expressive, capturing the struggle of moving forward after a profound loss.

The album closes with “Song for My Daughters,” which shifts toward Americana and ends the collection on a cautiously hopeful note. It feels like a letter of love and resilience written in the wake of hardship. While the sadness remains, there is a sense of forward motion and purpose.

Throughout For Dylan, Forever Ago, Platitudes avoid settling into a single mood or genre. The shifting vocalists, varied instrumentation, and emotional range reflect the unpredictable nature of healing. This is an album that does not seek easy resolution. It offers instead an honest and deeply human portrait of grief in all its complexity.

“Last Dance,” the forthcoming single from the EP In Between the Lossless Dreams by Swivvel, plays like the aftermath of a conversation you couldn’t quite finish. It captures that familiar emotional tension—the moment when the words finally come to you, long after the chance to speak has passed. The lyric “I know I’m terrible with the first chance” feels like a confession, steeped in self-awareness and regret.

The track opens with reverb-drenched guitars, steady drums, and a bassline that flows with quiet confidence. There is a warmth to the production that recalls the stylings of Mac DeMarco and Real Estate, but the emotional stakes here are more direct. The verses are airy and reflective, giving space for the vocals to carry the emotional weight. As the bridge builds, the energy shifts, making way for a chorus that lands with clarity and resonance.

Following the hook, the bass and guitar develop a subtle but captivating groove that adds a new layer of depth to the track. The song closes with scattered vocal phrases and a gentle fade, as if retreating into silence just as it begins to feel familiar.

“Last Dance” is a tightly crafted piece of indie rock that balances atmosphere with emotional precision. It is a song for late nights, for unsent texts, and for replaying old conversations in your head. If this track is any indication, In Between the Lossless Dreams will be a collection shaped by reflection, restraint, and a deep understanding of what goes unsaid.

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Earl Patrick’s Smooth Runs the Water is a quiet triumph. The singer-songwriter and multi-instrumentalist returns with his seventh album, a sparse and deeply personal collection of ten acoustic covers. Each track was recorded in a single complete take, with just guitar and voice. The album revisits the music that first inspired him as a teenager and marks a return to his roots after a life-altering injury nearly ended his career.

Twenty years ago, Patrick suffered a spinal cord injury while on vacation. He dove into a wave and struck a hidden rock, leaving him temporarily paralyzed. He had to relearn how to walk and how to play guitar. Despite lingering nerve damage, his playing on this record is expressive, articulate, and full of grace. His command of Travis picking and fingerstyle guitar creates a rich emotional palette that carries the entire album.

The record opens with “House Carpenter,” a performance that immediately showcases the clarity of Patrick’s playing and the warmth of his tone. His delivery is understated, but it resonates. The guitar glows with intricate detail and reminds me of Jack Rose’s best work. “The L&N Don’t Stop Here Anymore” leans into a dynamic picking style and recalls the heartfelt intensity of The Tallest Man on Earth. It feels timeless, grounded, and resilient.

“It’s a Hard Life Wherever You Go” is one of the most poignant moments on the album. The mention of Chicago gives it a personal edge for me that cuts a little deeper. “Johnny 99” is another standout. The arrangement feels like something you would stumble across in a Greenwich Village coffeehouse in the late 1960s. “Love” is rendered with delicate care, and “There’s a Starbucks (Where the Starbucks Used to Be)” offers a rare moment of levity with a touch of satire that never overplays itself.

His version of “Billie Jean” might be the most surprising track. It sounds nothing like the original, but that is precisely what makes it so compelling. Patrick strips the song of its pop polish and reimagines it as a raw, slow-burning folk ballad. “Rosin the Bow” introduces a Celtic-leaning texture that feels traditional and fresh at the same time. “Living in the Country” brings a bluesy brightness, while “Take This Hammer” closes the album with a darker, more haunted energy.

Smooth Runs the Water does not rely on studio flourishes or layered arrangements. It asks for close listening and rewards that attention with quiet intensity. Earl Patrick has made an album that feels lived in and hard-won. It is not flashy, but it is honest, moving, and beautifully human.