"oh mama, ain't no time to fall to pieces," words of caution, hope for strength. The first verse we're introduced to by a weathered voice, one of two contributors throughout the album; Mark Lanegan and Greg Dulli. The running theme is quite similar to squeezing a stone to death for some trace of blood; while we can't possibly understand how there might be even a vestige of hope in this search that defies some of the most basic common sense, we somehow find promise in an inexplainable form. The search isn't a pretty one. In fact, it's quite a dirty affair and these two gentleman don't shy away from it in the least. What makes it a unique experience however is that we aren't deprived the aspect of these strange, beautiful, uplifting moments in between and it's quite welcome, for how can we appreciate the good or bad if we don't shine equal light upon both?
These boys are well into the middle of their lifetime and they're absolutely at the top of their musical form, delivering us a palatable varied album full of dark, borderline gothic rock mood pieces. Songs by men who aren't sure if they're entirely willing to sign their dirty selves over for redemption by the god almighty or what have you.
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