Two musicians carrying the beatific weight of a certain American lineage with feet based on tradition and free spirit to take it down unheard of paths. Steve Gunn, an exemplary guitarist with an already close relationship with this city – he recorded here ‘Cantos de Lisboa’ with Mike Cooper – in a continuing craft among his hypnotic folk seat songs, a member of Kurt Vile’s band and spent in exploring the unfathomable paths of the GHQ or Black Dirt Oak.
John Truscinski as a drummer with a very sober vitality, in a fluidity that goes from the mimetic setting of the rhythm to the timbric, harmonic and textural questioning of that same instrument. Duo with a very frank and increasingly symbiotic complicity that goes back to the beginning of this decade and has walked in a way well his with the experience of calm days. Out of external pressures and stupid carreirismos.
The duo again treads through the North American landscapes in an instinctive compendium of road music well rooted in the spirit and the will. They both contemplate the moment of the melody and allow themselves to be carried away by the immensity of the great spaces, to hit the pace in a precise relaxation, where Gunn’s guitar is both thrown into the eye of the electric drill with the verve of a Neil Young and is enchanted in the narcotic acoustic fingering that Richard Thompson did not create, with a replica in the shaved metals and rhythmic current of Truscinski.