Micah P Hinson - And The Red Empire Orchestra

by Dan Worth

The trials of life

"Like shooting a man in Reno just to watch him die, this is dark, contemplative stuff that demands you to follow, rather than asks. Its lyrics are genuinely heartfelt and sincere and are delivered with a crackling, tender voice, laden with sorrow."

Is ‘smoky-voiced old man’ a genre now? It certainly should be. Leonard Cohen, Johnny Cash, Bob Dylan etc, would fit in there quite nicely and based on the quality of this album Micah P. Hinson would join them. He would, however, look slightly out of place, being only 27. Still, he’s lived the life: he’s done jail time, been declared bankrupt, had a relationship with a Vogue cover model and worked in telesales. Okay that last one may not fit in as nicely but it’s probably the most soul-destroying of the lot.

He’s brought his tumultuous life to bear on this, his second album, to quite glorious effect. Like shooting a man in Reno just to watch him die, this is dark, contemplative stuff that demands you to follow, rather than asks. Its lyrics are genuinely heartfelt and sincere and deal with some heavy issues, as his past would testify, and are delivered with a crackling, tender voice, laden with sorrow. If songs like ‘Tell Me It Ain’t So’, with its chorus of “constantly craving what isn’t mine”, or ‘I Keep Havin’ These Dreams’ and its melancholic strings that rise and fall throughout don’t break your heart you are a cold, dead person.

The music mixes folk and country and it’s a fusion that doesn’t stray far into anything difficult or challenging. Rather it uses its simplicity to devastating effect, letting the lyrics drift into your ears and lets the silences peppered throughout the songs resonate. Even the placing of songs on the album is perfect. ‘You Will Find Me’ has a quick-slow verse-chorus structure that is linked with a sudden and dramatic flurry of string and guitar chords that is far louder than anything else on the album. Placed two-thirds of the way through its burst of noise and drama that brings in a new element and helps set the final third of the album apart from the songs before.

The sound throughout conjures up images of a wizened old man, sipping whiskey on a porch, reflecting on a failed life, perhaps with a feeble old dog by his side, especially on songs like ‘The Fire Came To My Knee’. In many ways then it’s better not to seek out photos of this man, instead just let the music help you paint a picture of someone that you can take comfort from when everything is going wrong.

There is no redemption offered though, album closer ‘Dyin’ Alone’ is about as bleak as it gets – "I’m just afraid of dyin' alone" – and it doesn’t demean you by lying that everything will be alright (as so many songs do). Instead it merely offers you the agreement that life is bleak, and life is hard, and that sometimes you just take what comes and find whatever silver lining you can.

An album can do this without sounding pretentious or patronising when its creator has lived through the hard times, and come through, maybe not unscathed, but wiser and stronger and is able to express this in songs steeped in both style and substance. This is a truly mesmerising piece of work.

Be the first to comment on this article