With the religion in, an Edwards record is the audio equivalent of reading Flannery O’Connor or William Faulkner.
Beneath the unaccustomed level of noise, Jurado remains as incisive a writer as ever, and has never sounded better vocally.
Thomas is the kind of performer that could sing gibberish and make it sound good.
This attempt to outdo Hollywood blockbusters ends up looking an awful lot like a Hollywood blockbuster.
It’s an intense experience, and not one you’ll soon forget.
A concept album that reveals the lives of the supposedly righteous for the moral travesties they really are.
A little slice of Americana right there in your stereo, albeit one that’s dimly lit and sorrowful.
This movie won’t even meet the standard of a “so bad it’s good” movie.
Like a set of old, grainy family photographs you stumble across, not so much comforting as haunting.
The album’s at its best when the music is more atmospheric and cinematic.
Criticizing John Ringhofer for making strange music is pointless because it’s obvious he has no intent to do otherwise.
90% of this comp is filled with beautiful, lo-fi treasures.