The Bird Calls “Infernal Harvest”

This may be a bit of a curveball from what might be expected at Foxy Digitalis, but I am smitten with The Bird Calls latest pensive effort, Infernal Harvest. Situated somewhere between tape-deck era John Darnielle and Elliot Smith at his most confessional, maybe a sardonic hint of Townes or Oldham, The Bird Calls Sam Sodomsky’s whispered vocals drip with lament and longing, hung out on the line with simply-layered, quietly powerful acoustic instrumentation. Infernal Harvest leaves mark much longer than its 20ish minute runtime, laced with lyrical nuggets like, “I couldn’t focus, so I learn to train my eyes to the blur,” or, “But there’s no wisdom in the way you and I learn from our mistakes. That’s why we’re destined to repeat them.” His voice is so plaintive and direct, at times barely held together with mud and tape, a flickering lamp in the grey stillness that hits me right in the center.


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