Reviewed by Eric Saeger
Sounding like a more controlled Conor Oberst, Gibbons often comes off a bit loud over this strummy Americana-rock, but the tunes themselves make up for any questions about the mixing levels. Perhaps one reason his lines are so adamant is a psychic needs to be heard over the Red Shirt violence going on in Bangkok, where this album was recorded; he apparently had to change his jogging route due to warnings of sniper fire on civilians. Oddly enough, his lyrics gravitate to the inner rather than outer, focusing on guilt, Zen, things like that. Either way, after sitting through this entire LP, I can honestly say I haven’t met a Gibbons tune I didn’t like, all of them what you’d hear from a more straightforward and less depressing Band of Horses.
Grade: A-
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XMDR-QHRuAM
