Will Scott – Gnawbone
Delta Blues. Country Blues. Acoustic Blues. Hill Country Blues. Folk Blues. Alternative Blues. Folk. Dark Folk. Alternative Folk. Singer-Songwriter. Roots. Americana. Alternative Country.
Someday, we’re going to have one term that covers all of this. Until then, call it Genre R, for Raw.
Pound for pound and song for song, I think Will Scott’s Gnawbone is one of the finest expressions of Genre R to be recorded in the past twenty years.
It all begins, continues onwards, and ends with Will’s voice. His is an unearthly howl, a plaintive creak, a sinister whisper, a soothing lullaby, a breaking wheeze, a savage bark, a mystical chant.
His melodies are both primitive and savage, canonical and classic; haunting and haunted, eclectic, electric, and eccentric.
His lyrics are a language unto himself, and every song is an ecosystem unto itself—crumbling and beautiful worlds in which the weird is familiar, and the familiar strange.
The drumming on the album is just obscene. It’s tribal perfection; funky, rolling, percolating, driving, naunced and baroque. Joe Magistro, aka Prophet Omega, is a master.
Jim Sinnerman Whitney. I can count on about 4 fingers the amount of times history has been blessed with upright bass playing that is both so menacing and so funky and so sweet and so perfect.
I am so humbled to have been part of the experience of bringing this album to life.
I may never stop listening to it. I certainly haven’t yet.
Listen to Stain Lifter. It’ll blow yer fucking mind.
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