Coming October 22

Our new album, Americana Gothic, arrives October 22: ten songs about the staying kind of love, the beauty of things worn and mended, and what's left standing after the hard years. Here's the story behind it, and the painting that gave it its name.

We didn't set out to make a concept album. We just kept writing about the same things, the road, the people you leave behind or lose, the work of getting up the next morning anyway. Somewhere in there it turned into Americana Gothic.

This is our second full-length record, ten songs that move through five stages: falling and loss, leaving and haunting, grief, endurance, and finally hope. These aren't songs about the big dramatic moment. They're about what comes after it. The long stretch of road. The empty chair. The decision you have to live with for the rest of your life. Memory doesn't stay behind you here, it keeps showing up in the present, sometimes clear, sometimes in pieces. Nothing resolves cleanly. What's left is just a way forward.

At its heart, this is a record about the staying kind of love, not the falling-in-love songs. There's a particular beauty in things that are a little worn and have been mended more than once, a marriage, a friendship, a pair of hands, a house. It's the same beauty Grant Wood found in the plain and worn faces of his painting American Gothic, something worth a second look. The album cover carries that same idea forward: a hand-carved linocut in black and cream, stark and folk-art plain.

From a mill-town ballad inspired by Son's grandmother to a river that finally runs low enough to cross, these songs carry what they can and keep moving. We hope you'll sit with them a while.

Americana Gothic drops October 22. Full track list and streaming links coming soon.

This record was cut live, with no overdubs and no cleanup. Just guitar, upright bass, our two voices, and a room full of great people that were paying attention.

The songs come from different places, but they hang together. There’s a relationship that’s slipped so far into the past that it barely leaves a mark, a night at a bar that won’t quite let go, settlers toughing it out in early 20th century North Dakota, an escape to the woods to drown out political fear, and a deep appreciation for the luck in having found your person. All these small moments are carefully crafted into story and melody and take wing with harmony.

What you hear is what happened. A few rough edges, a little space between the notes, and the kind of quiet that only shows up when people are really listening. It’s not polished, but it’s authentic and real.