The War on Drugs is once again at the blurred edges of American music: overexposing studio limitations, piling tape upon tape to maximum density, and then with each song they pull off the scaffolding to reveal what sticks, keeping only what's absolutely necessary and dig into what sounds like the best kind of fucked up. As on their debut Wagonwheel Blues, they take small moments occurring over multiple tapes and multiple song versions, and put every last drop of trust in their own instinct of momentum.
Come to the City 14
A Pile of Tires
The History of Plastic
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