Cajun laced Rock n roll soaked in a emotional bath of countrified guitars. Prolific in his pursuit of making more art he's recorded 4 albums in 3 years. Nominations for awards aside he'written songs to connect himself to the world when it felt like it left him behind. You'll hear so much more than just music in his songs.
The gravel church was a 25×25 fenced in by barbed wire piece of dirt that he was allowed to walk around while in prison for trying to be a father in the Commonwealth. He did time in solitary for fighting with a man half his age and was eventually released to his family after 6 months of living hell. This is where the album was born. He then followed his dream to Ultrasound Productions and presented his music to Producer Joe Clapp. He and Mr. Clapp got to work on what started as a 5 song EP that turned into a 16 song album of reflection, understanding and healing. It's everything country and rock 'n' roll is supposed to be.
This album will be a nice place to stay awhile.
In this the age of the outsider, Kristian Montgomery might be starting to fit in...but don't tell him that. Montgomery grew up poor, prefers to catch his own meals on the waters off Cape Cod and has always felt his music defies genre. A lack of belonging colors his worldview, and he wouldn't have it any other way. The battle between searching for common ground and accepting his otherness informs much of his songwriting.
On his second pandemic release, Prince of Poverty, Montgomery and his Winterkill band pursue an edgier sound than on last year's 'The Gravel Church', which was largely penned while he served out a prison sentence.
From the Replacements-reminiscent barroom swagger of "Don't Call Me Baby" to the clanging anthem "They'll Remember My Name", and the jangly hooks through "That Kind of Love", the band oozes no nonsense, authentic blue-collar spirit that's keenly balanced with clever songwriting. The brooding defiance in "Soul for a Soul" puts focus on Montgomery's grunge-crooner vocals, while the banjo-propelled gallop of both "Working Hands" and "American Fire" shows off the band's rootsy foundation.
Uninspired by the recent turns in the world of mainstream country, Montgomery and Co. take their Americana into a space that's simultaneously restless, rugged and ragged, while still plenty infectious. It's an impressive tightrope act.