The Oklahoma folk singer John Morelandhas a beautifully abraded voice, full of potholes and gravel. Rarely
does he wield it with power — instead, his soft hallow scrape is marked
by flexibility and candor. At the beginning of “Cherokee,” one of the
many fine songs on High on Tulsa Heat,
his third full-length solo album, he sings, “I guess I’ve got a taste
for poison/ I’ve given up on ever being well,” and it sounds as if he’s
singing from the sickbed somewhere, with no visitors on the horizon.
Before he was working the shadowy corners of folk-country, Mr. Moreland
played in metalcore and hardcore bands. The lasting effect of that is
perhaps in his music’s admirable lack of sentimentality. It’s not that
he doesn’t feel deeply — he certainly does — but he’s no passive canvas.
John Moreland – High On Tulsa Heat (2015)
The Oklahoma folk singer John Morelandhas a beautifully abraded voice, full of potholes and gravel. Rarely
does he wield it with power — instead, his soft hallow scrape is marked
by flexibility and candor. At the beginning of “Cherokee,” one of the
many fine songs on High on Tulsa Heat,
his third full-length solo album, he sings, “I guess I’ve got a taste
for poison/ I’ve given up on ever being well,” and it sounds as if he’s
singing from the sickbed somewhere, with no visitors on the horizon.
Before he was working the shadowy corners of folk-country, Mr. Moreland
played in metalcore and hardcore bands. The lasting effect of that is
perhaps in his music’s admirable lack of sentimentality. It’s not that
he doesn’t feel deeply — he certainly does — but he’s no passive canvas.
