Early ’80s-ish rock nestling itself between The Cranberries and Joan Jett, slightly burned-out chick-fronted grind with less hope in their lyrics than heart.
DFD dances naked in the back of your mind while jackhammering your defenses with coy melodies, Mike Patton theatrics, jazz sax, and death metal fist-fucking.
Member of Thee Shams kick out soulful, laid-back and thoughtful tales. Bit of drug stagger, sorrowful pleas, slide guitar, and harmonies Neil Young’d nod to.
This is this man’s deepest and most sincere expression of himself. It just so happens that he’s also able to write arena rock songs that cannot be refused.
If you’ve zoned out to Cowboy Junkies or Floyd’s “Comfortably Numb,” you’ll find solace in the flow of this solemn, depressive, and well-assembled dish.