Mournful songs of place and imagination run wild, produced by Sonic Youth's Steve Shelley in some barn in the Catskills.
Gripka has a Jaggeresque rip in his voice and his quintet would be lying if they said they hadn't noticed how much they resemble the Stones in country mode, torn and frayed by the side of a dusty road. The Faces, even. Gripka favours high-turnover chordal structures at medium tempos, and melodies which bleed. What's not to like?