Chicago, by way of North Carolina & Maryland troubadour, Joe Pug would like to apologize to the innocent folks now living in the houses that he helped construct while working as a carpenter. He is likely expressing his remorse for the hours he seems to have spent humming possible melodies and arranging lyrics in his head while he likely should’ve been leveling, hammering, caulking and anything else that may have gone undone as he planned his musical path (for the record, there are no reports of any “issues” regarding the possible negligence). While certain details may have been missed as a carpenter, Pug’s E.P., Nation of Heat skips absolutely nothing as he relays the tales of his life and hopes.
Earlier, I referred to pug as a “troubadour”. With his nasally, almost Springsteenian rasp, I truly can envision Pug wandering the hills (ok, that’s a little too Sound of Music, sorry) strumming along and regaling all who will listen with folk gems such as the opening track, Hymn #101. Aside from the excellent vocals, the distinctive quality to this song is the way in which the lyrics are used to time-travel to the past. Terms such as “the posse“, “the sea” and “the village” are used in such a way that the listener has the picture painted for them as Pug sings of his desire to “get high and not just get by“. Much in the way of Josh Ritter’s recent breakthrough, Joe Pug is able to sound like a wise old sage with a million stories and a memory that captures each detail and refuses to let them dim. When he sings of such specifics as “silver cans and bronze-colored dirt” in “Call it What You Will”, we are witnessing an artist sketch in color as much as we are hearing a yarn being spun.
By the end of the 7 song E.P., many of the songs have had roughly similar tones and pace. That pleasant monotony is broken with gregariousness with the closing, title track, “Nation of Heat”. The employment of harmonica accompanying Pug’s most forceful vocal performance proves to be an ideal display of his talent. This combo provides a raw, rootsy and loose sonic that brings the disc to a satisfying close.
About the author: I likes me some wine, women and waffles, not always in that order (but usually). Chaucer is cool, but fart jokes are even better. You feel like spikin' your country with a little soul or mix in a little rock without the roll? Lemme hear from ya!!