Because Danny’s failing the Holland blog (yep! I named names!), I’ll do a meantime post to make up for yesterday.

Visualize this. An old man and his friends, none of them have teeth and they wear old levis and boots, or overalls and flannels. They sit on the back porch somewhere deep in the South and make music with washboards and an old guitar, while fireflies dance around and the wood under them creaks as they sing and stomp their feet.

That’s what I picture when I listen to my new favorite band, Cave Singers.

Here’s what Pitchfork has to say:
Rock bands tend to get spiritual in two very different ways: They either try to storm the pearly gates with a surge of ostentatious orchestration and backing choirs, or, for those who lack the Flaming Lips’ recording budget, they try to coax the man upstairs into sitting down for a little one-on-one over some barbecue, whiskey, and sloppy sing-alongs. As the newest entrants to indie-rock’s ever-expanding campfire folk circle, Seattle’s Cave Singers like to sing of god and country, though only in the vaguest terms. Listening to the trio’s Matador Records debut, you get the sense that, for them, singing about the lord is simply as much a prerequisite for roots-music authenticity as their ragged acoustic strums, walking bass lines, and snare-brushed rhythms.

It’s good. Really good. And singer Pete Quirk’s voice will haunt you all day if you let it–and I mean that in a best way.

Get it! You can buy it now on Itunes.