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The Sounding Board

Home Is Where reach new heights thanks to dying Elvis

Every Tuesday, the Sounding Board is a space for a short-ish review of a recent-ish release and conversations about new-to-you music. We’ll get things started with a write-up about a newer, likely under-heard album, and invite you to share your music musings in the comments.

Hunting Season

Every Tuesday, the Sounding Board is a space for a short-ish review of a recent-ish release and conversations about new-to-you music. We’ll get things started with a write-up about a newer, likely under-heard album, and invite you to share your music musings in the comments.

The audacious concept at the heart of Hunting Season is worth four stars all on its own.

Each of the 13 songs on Home Is Where’s third album ostensibly captures the dying thoughts of an Elvis impersonator who suffered fatal injuries in a grisly car wreck. To make it more bizarre and macabre, none of these songs are from the point of view of the same ill-fated impersonator, but they all stem from the same King-sized car wreck.1 Yes, Hunting Season‘s central conceit is an ultra-improbable hunk a hunk of burning humanity that claims the lives of a baker’s dozen of ersatz Elvi. It’s grotesque, absurd, shows poor taste in at least two ways, and it earns the emo erstwhile Floridians who committed to the bit a standing ovation from me.2

Hunting Season‘s dark reflections are— ironically — given life by the richest, fullest, most melodic music of Home Is Where’s career to date. Sauntering piano, sweet slide, big blasts of harmonica and bent strings define the LP’s sound and provide a home base for the band to return to on the occasions things detour to noisier, less structured terrain.3 It’s an album that draws as much from Gram Parsons and Decoration Day-era Drive-by Truckers as it does from the Midwest emo that provided a clear precursor to Home Is Where’s first two albums. Some tracks, like “Artificial Grass” lean more into the angular noise and throat-shredding yowl of emo, while others, like “Mechanical Bull” go full Flying Burrito Brothers, but every song pairs at least a little twang with morbid sentiments.4

While Home Is Where’s music has never sounded so crisp and relatively jaunty, the band’s voice remains familiar and distinctive. Bea MacDonald’s lyrics are as creatively bleak as ever. Last album, the whaler, gave us Every day feels like 9/11. This album includes “The animals/ All crawl under/ My house to die/ And I’ll go/ To follow/ Them soon,” among other bon mots. Their singing is instantly identifiable, too. MacDonald often favors a lilting yelp, like an extra-pained Isaac Brock, over larynx-bloodying wail of the last couple Home Is Where albums, but the screaming comes back for the Hunting Season songs that land closer to emo rock. She also tries out a croon on a few of the album’s slower songs. It’s not a classically “good” singing voice, but it adds emotional honesty to a series of acrid sentiments attributed to final firing neurons of Elvis impersonators, who happen to have experience with the same clogged arterial highways and lonely landscapes as MacDonald.

The sprawling, splattered stretches of blacktop conjured by the lyrics are already a great match for the expansive Americana sounds that Hunting Season employs. The vocal verisimilitude just makes it that much better.

It’s impossible to imagine anyone else thinking up thinking up the bizarre dark poetry of these songs and recording them in this way. While it will be a bit too weird for many, listeners who can tune into the singular frequency will find they can’t help falling in love with Hunting Season.

  1. From the album’s Bandcamp page: “Bea MacDonald wanted to write The Great American Song. Hunting Season, the third LP with her band Home Is Where, has 13 of these, each one detailing the dying thoughts of an Elvis impersonator consumed by fumes and flames in a car wreck. To be clear, these songs are not all sung from the perspective of the same dying Elvis impersonator, but from 13 different Elvis impersonators, all dying in a thirteen-car pileup. An unlucky number of imitation Elvises, each grasping at their final scraps of life as they all burn—stuck in separate cars, but together in wreckage and in death. What could be more American than that?” ↩︎
  2. Home Is Where formed in Palm Coast, Florida, but Bea MacDonald (singer and lyricist) and Tilley Kormony (guitarist) relocated “due to the state’s growing hostility towards trans people.” ↩︎
  3. The conventional twang of album-closer “Drive-by Mooning” follows the 10-minute dissociative disintegration of “Roll Tide,” for example. ↩︎
  4. “Mechanical Bull” specifically sounds a ton like “Wheels” by the Flying Burrito Brothers, minus the older song’s super groovy foghorn sounds. It’s not the only on-the-nose tribute on the album. “The Wolf Man” has some Warren Zevon in its piano line. I’m all for reclaiming that from the dregs of musical society. ↩︎