Never regret the things you do, just the things you never did. An experience so rich and vivid its atmosphere becomes palpable. So when you read between the lines, dissect what three soul-driven men are singing to you if you find yourself at this juncture, it probably is just that. “Life won’t tell you nothin’/nothin’ but lies.” What you have done is so precious you pursued it, and life is only lying to you when ambition seeks refuge in thinking otherwise. Middle Brother will tap their feet to the promise of a simple youth filled with cigarette butts, hungover acoustics, and winding Americana roads. The band is an astonishing stage presence; what holds the music together is Matt Vasquez (Delta Spirit), John McCauley (Deer Tick), and Taylor Goldsmith (Dawes).
Although they won’t admit their popularity is much to write home about, there are thousands of people who disagree. Their melodic ballads are time-traveling serpents hissing at the expression of inexperience, and their stories bite at the commonalities among us all. We all just want to have fun, and forget the consequences that come with disregarding responsibility. Family, friends, parties, and calling for love fill a self-titled album that is foolproof, cinematic success. Drenched in more moonshine than sunshine, Middle Brother is one of the finer albums I have come across in quite some time. The trio extracts much of what they bring to their own bands and set the table with each other’s creativity. Indie folk never tasted so sweet.
Although Middle Brother is full of delicate vocals, McCauley is featured on most songs more times than not as their voice. He is rough around the edges, sharp and bellowing, much like Dylan but much more abrasive and straightforward. He can stretch the potential to any realm of the alternative country sound and it is most evident in the songs below. “Mom and Dad” is the stripped, interpretative memories of a saucy childhood filled with sacrifice and doubt. Guitars cry and echo as a simple drum kicks in sorrow, reeling you into the bar midday for the first shot of reality. “Middle Brother”, on the other hand, is schizophrenic mastery; fun tunes that dance around the room with bluesy electricity. Handclaps and stomping persevere around guitar solos and pianos that flip any dress up with flair. Old and western, bright and aglow. Middle Brother is the fire in your throat, one shot after another.
