I first heard Shakey Graves at a small party at what can only be described as the coolest house in town (Kurt Vonnegut lived there, to give it some cred). So, naturally, that made me want to hate it right off of the bat. I couldn’t though, because like my left ear tinnitus it stayed in my head for several days and eventually I gave up and decided that his Roll The Bones (2011) album was going to seriously influence my emotions all summer. I’m about three years behind on this bandwagon, but better late than never.

Like an even more emotionally available Bob Dylan, Shakey sings about love and death in a single breath while simultaneously managing to wear cool hats and not suck at guitar. The mild distortions along with his sandpaper voice produce a sound that is eery and sexual at the same time. His honest, unpretentious discography is the best 15 dollars I have spent in some time and I would encourage everyone to download it from his website immediately.

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