Midnight fear choirs for blond fatherless boys…mid-western cuckoos? Unkind this oeuvre but sorrow’s a bass voice, horned beast too, black vinyl records & scratched out 70’s country sounds, pop, – rootless & ungrounded? Old timers slumped over Fordson tractors, transistor radios mudguard strapped & melodies cutting off a piece of their ears.
Were (you) a boy named Sue too?
“For two hours we could make them forget they were caged up like animals.” Substitute dads don’t need a back of album blurb; seek directions to the village of the dammed, but remember:
Don’t take your guns to town, son.
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