
Twenty-two tracks of unvarnished, diary-like folk. Sparse nylon-string guitar backdrops for sprawling narratives about the fatigue of the road and the weight of memory.
It's like eavesdropping on a tired songwriter's most honest thoughts in a quiet hotel room.
A weary, self-reflective honesty that balances dry humor with deep-seated loneliness.
The production is pushed a touch harder into sparse bare than this artist usually allows.
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