Named after a story by Ireland's own literary extraordinaire James Joyce, Two Gallants first broke onto the scene with the haunting melodies and dark wit of Steady Rollin, their first single of this latest release, "What The Toll Tells". The San Franciscan two-piece, fronted by Adam Stevens and Tyson Vogel, take the stripped-down art of story-telling that permeated The Pogues at their best, and add a provocative edge to their jangling blues-rife, folk-rock. With a quite magnificent blend of grit and attitude, Two Gallants have produced again, with quite exemplary precision. With that loveable old concoction of whiskey-soaked rock n roll, mixed with a dousing of country-blues and a dash of punk roots , their songs, steeped in rasping, lyrical narrative, unfurl like the whisperings of great novels, unravelling the hidden truths of the vast American sprawls.
Released on Conor Oberst's (Bright Eyes) Saddle Creak label, this latest offering, much like its predecessor, sews the threads of folk with punk, serving up a quite brilliant manifestation of quirky rock-a-long jigs and sing-along satires. We're briskly shunted into the cold wisps of wind and the desperation of the lone whistle with the album's opening track, Las Cruces Jail, a brash, satirical narrative of imprisonment that touches upon the lyrical execution of the great folk luminaries such as Dylan and John Prine. The album's beauty lies within the manipulation of its sounds, punctuated with a lyrical tenacity that stokes hilarity as well as deep emotional provocation. Steady Rollin, the album's first single, which provided the two-piece with their first foray into the demonic trappings of the limelight, is a quite exceptional brooding coming together of tough, poetic narration ( "if you've got a throat, I've got a knife") and the gentle, yet rasped delicacies of acoustic guitar and drums. Racial injustice is prodded at in Long Summer Day, where the white men 'laughed in my face’, and the summer day's making the 'white man lazy'.
Amongst the quirks, the ghostly tales, and the jerks from soft melody to punk-fused rock-a-billy, there's a certain dreamy-like quality to this latest offering. 16th Dozen Street is almost schizoid in its approach.-from grungy overtones to the slow trudge of intricate electric guitar, it is, quite probably, the album's finest track. Its retreat back into a noisy affair, orchestrated by the spasmodic cacophony of trumpet and incessant, glorious feedback, is a quite triumphant five minutes best played loudly. The grit lies in its juxtaposition- from the eerie wails of despondency illuminated by the chill of fading harmonics (Waves Of Grain) to the up-beat whisks of bar-fly anthems and bedraggled angst-ridden tales of yore.
And so we drift off with slow, sombre harmonics and a damning diatribe on the selfishness of humanity,- a philosophical, pain-staking, but utterly inspirational outlook on the world in which we live. And it's this craft, this profound beauty attached to the honesty, the brevity, of story-telling that defines the true essence, and indeed beauty of the music of Two Gallants. Because in a time where the voice is needed in it's most prominent form, in a world devoid of a true voice in music, we need artists like this- who'll go that extra step, original in sound, provocative in words, thought-provoking as a magnificent whole. Buy this album and learn of hope.
Released on Conor Oberst's (Bright Eyes) Saddle Creak label, this latest offering, much like its predecessor, sews the threads of folk with punk, serving up a quite brilliant manifestation of quirky rock-a-long jigs and sing-along satires. We're briskly shunted into the cold wisps of wind and the desperation of the lone whistle with the album's opening track, Las Cruces Jail, a brash, satirical narrative of imprisonment that touches upon the lyrical execution of the great folk luminaries such as Dylan and John Prine. The album's beauty lies within the manipulation of its sounds, punctuated with a lyrical tenacity that stokes hilarity as well as deep emotional provocation. Steady Rollin, the album's first single, which provided the two-piece with their first foray into the demonic trappings of the limelight, is a quite exceptional brooding coming together of tough, poetic narration ( "if you've got a throat, I've got a knife") and the gentle, yet rasped delicacies of acoustic guitar and drums. Racial injustice is prodded at in Long Summer Day, where the white men 'laughed in my face’, and the summer day's making the 'white man lazy'.
Amongst the quirks, the ghostly tales, and the jerks from soft melody to punk-fused rock-a-billy, there's a certain dreamy-like quality to this latest offering. 16th Dozen Street is almost schizoid in its approach.-from grungy overtones to the slow trudge of intricate electric guitar, it is, quite probably, the album's finest track. Its retreat back into a noisy affair, orchestrated by the spasmodic cacophony of trumpet and incessant, glorious feedback, is a quite triumphant five minutes best played loudly. The grit lies in its juxtaposition- from the eerie wails of despondency illuminated by the chill of fading harmonics (Waves Of Grain) to the up-beat whisks of bar-fly anthems and bedraggled angst-ridden tales of yore.
And so we drift off with slow, sombre harmonics and a damning diatribe on the selfishness of humanity,- a philosophical, pain-staking, but utterly inspirational outlook on the world in which we live. And it's this craft, this profound beauty attached to the honesty, the brevity, of story-telling that defines the true essence, and indeed beauty of the music of Two Gallants. Because in a time where the voice is needed in it's most prominent form, in a world devoid of a true voice in music, we need artists like this- who'll go that extra step, original in sound, provocative in words, thought-provoking as a magnificent whole. Buy this album and learn of hope.
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