White is Spacebomb - the process, the sound, the spirit, and the record label which White's debut launches. You don't need the seven-voice choir chasing White's voice to make you believe it, but it sure doesn't hurt.įor a record so personal, built on such code, it's never been a secret. The vibe is farmed by Trey Pollard's cinematic string arrangement, Megafaun's Phil Cook on near-frantic keys, baritone sax squawks, pacemaking congas, and the first appearance of a burning White guitar solo. "Big Love," the album's whopping second track, evolves the serenade of the opener into an all-out field holler. The references - from the lyrics that echo the common conditions of love, death, seeking, and finding, to open tributes to artists like Washington Phillips, Allen Toussaint, Jorge Ben, Jimmy Cliff, and Randy Newman - are their own scavenger hunt through history and through White's place in it. It's his soul and it's his music.īig Inner is told in seven songs that merge memory with the rawness of any given human moment. Whether you're a woman or man, White's mournful, get-it-on voice may be all you can hear: I don’t want to live a day longer than you, so let’s meet the Lord together. Overdubbed woodwinds and muted brass like it on top, dancing around the embers of the bass line. The choir lets you know you're not alone. The guitar only talks when it has something to say. Plants it in your head as it blooms in his. The first time around, White only hums the chorus. You give me joy like a fountain deep down in my soul. White and the world of Spacebomb he's convincing you to stay the night.
It's feeling the wood of the church pew on your back. He stitched his own flag out of it.Īnd so it begins with "One of These Days," looking in, up, and over in its declarations of love. Jimmy Cliff had sung "Many Rivers to Cross." So had Harry Nilsson. Randy Newman's Sail Away was a decade old. Lee Perry had built The Black Ark in his backyard in Kingston. Alan Lomax's recordings sat in a big building in Washington, DC. The dusts of the Delta had swirled into Rock and Roll. White, there was so much to listen to, so much to put your heart into, already. On that day in August, when the earth shifted into the shape of Matthew E.
Something between them taught him to time travel. Something between them taught him to love. His first moves, from picking up a basketball to picking up a guitar, were cast in the dual glow of these latitudes.
His unfolded out of the mingled sands of Virginia Beach and Manila, the youngest son in a family that raised him barefoot between the blurred racket of that far eastern jungle city and the backyard lightning-bug-hum of a trimmed southern lawn. Title comes from the Pulp Fiction quote "No, it seemed excessive, but that doesn't mean it didn't happen.Like all of us, MATTHEW E. That douchebag Steve Harrington will have to watch his back. A certain fluffy haired boy takes an interest in what's his. When the Hargroves are forced to move to a little town called Hawkins, life throws a wrench into his plans. When it was the two of them against the world, could anyone really blame him for falling for her? So what if the feelings weren't mutual? What did consent really matter, in the face of true love? She even looked after their pain in the ass little brother Dustin. Max was kind where he was brash, patient where he was angry. Growing up with an asshole dad and emotionally absent mom, he hadn't learned the best habits.
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