New recording from the Boston trio. More laced than poisoned, less paint than dry, these dropouts know how to give your speakers a punch in the kidneys just to make sure you’re listening correctly - that is, bent double in agonising pain while the rest of the world spins around you. Remember that feeling you had? It’s about to be erased. Go back to the tool shed - they’ll be waiting for you there, ready to bolt on a new thorax.
Somewhat lacking conventional wisdom, Piss Poor Rucksack Blues Pipe Whistle attempts to make up for this with sheer distortability and a profound sense of idiom, making the album rather insular and mindful of the patient occupying the next bed. Of course, the Horse Drawn Frauds themselves are fabulists of the highest orientation - there can be no tone left undroned, no pop left cropped. Piss Poor Rucksack Blues Pipe Whistle is a camping holiday unto itself, awaiting your arrival at 30,000ft.
Don’t disappoint them.