Gem in the Piles

I recorded this weekend, which I’ll write about later, but I wanted to mention an album I pulled out from the incriminating piles of junk in my house, and that I subsequently rocked out to: Loneliness Knows my Name by Patrick Park (2003). It’s one of those albums that I overplayed so much, I didn’t touch for a year or so, but now it sounds sweeter than ever. It passed the “Don’t Touch Me for a While then Pick Me Up and Either Still Love Me or Wonder Why You Ever Did” test!

PP sounds a bit like Elliott Smith but with more muscle and growl, and the album is an intoxicating blend of Beatlesesque sunshiney harmonies, some countrified, dilapidated folkiness, and literate, heartfelt grandson-of-Bacharach songwriting. Every song is a masterpiece, incredibly catchy and rousing, and the album listened through in one sitting will pierce and buoy you.

 

Hope he puts out another album soon. I think it’s cool he hasn’t yet (he’s probably digging even deeper for those amazing songs to come forth while straddling this rooftop.)