On the face of it, Texas singer-songwriter David Ramirez’s third album title suggests the anomie of small town Americana, all shut factories and thwarted Bruce Springsteen escapes. These are resonant, grownup songs about going drinking on a Tuesday (Time), Okie ancestors forced to move during the depression (Eliza Jane) and the frustrations of transatlantic lovers looking at the same ocean (Telephone Lovers). Refocus, though, and this Americana artist of dual Mexican/US heritage is saying something quite specific on songs like the moving elegy for America, Twins, abetted throughout by an eloquent rock band and a post-War on Drugs spaciousness: that the many cultures making up the US will not be intimidated, and guys like him aren’t going anywhere.
.jpg?w=600)
