There's urgency in your voice, friend, and it's wrought with anguish, and it's imbued with inspiration.
You sound like you're choking on words because you want to get them out so bad. They (the words) fight to be released roundabout your adam's apple, creating a bottleneck (in your neck) of intensely built pressure. When the words do squeeze free they are shot like a musket ball at unsuspecting ears. Much like old guns, the word projectiles lack precision but carry the threat of bayonet incision.
Joe Pug was a playwriting student at UNC about to enter his senior year when he moved to Chicago to try his hand at songwriting. He tried his hand, and the glove fit. His 7 song EP "Nation of Heat" crackles with the raw tenacity of a songwriter freshly unchained. Speaking in the wide strokes of nation, hope, destiny, sin, and spiritual reclamation, Pug is a natural and I wait in anticipation to see what he does next.
Someone once said of Bob Dylan that he used to strum his guitar with such abandon that it would "startle" the audience because it looked and felt like he was attacking the instrument. Mr. Pug lives in that camp as well. Acoustic guitar is not from the string family, he says, it's from the percussion family, and I will beat the crap out of that percussion instrument. Please enjoy two of the better songs I've heard in years.
Joe Pug, "Nation of Heat"
Joe Pug, "Hymn #101"
Songwriterly Yours,
Nick
PS. Thanks to Pujam and Earl for today's selections
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