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Governed by an overwhelming thirst to express keenly and well, resolute in his desire to have his voice heard: Greg MacPherson has spent the better part of the past two decades with his head down, charging. From seedy biker bar in South Carolina to art-rock club in downtown Hamburg, MacPherson has toured widely and relentlessly, pausing every so often to record and release a critically acclaimed album, work a shift at a day job, or take a deep breath.
Neither worn thin nor rendered a cynic, MacPherson has developed a voice, singular, significant, and strong. Sharpened over six full-length albums, his deft musical observations on love, desire, fear, and doubt are built upon a view of hope — the honest perspective of a man who has insight into the trembling beauty of even the basest thing, and possesses the rare ability to tangibly present this insight.
The sonic quality of MacPherson's songs is in line with the unadorned state of his observations: arrangements are minimal and purposeful; guitars, bass, and drums are played with conviction and dynamic awareness. MacPherson's singing voice — broad, mountain-rending — crowds a room, drives itself into one's chest and remains there long after the night's last cymbal has crashed.
This is music of sincerity, of focused and truthful beauty — not gathered from the fluff of impermanent trend, but carved from the dirt and tears of human existence. Posterity will deem Greg MacPherson one of the great songwriters of his generation. One would be remiss to not listen closely to one's own age.http://gregmacpherson.com/
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