Labels: Manual
Review by: Kunal Nandi
Phillip Roebuck consists of Phillip Roebuck. He travels the world, with his feet attached by string to drums sticking out of his backpack, and his hands virtually glued to a no-doubt battered banjo. He is also an unfettered genius.
Aided by an eternally pristine Steve Albini recording, this album has a totally timeless quality to it. You see, despite being a hip and happening guy, sat in front of a computer listening to this via the medium of compact disc, I can also quite easily imagine this being sung during the Gold Rush in some Wild West Last Chance Saloon type place.
And it’s catchy like nothing else. A true American troubadour for the modern age, using archaic methods, beautifully judged vocals, an acerbic lyrical wit and an utterly frenzied strumming action reminiscent of Kerry King if he’d been a cowboy. Wonderful.