ENTRANCE /// WANDERING STRANGER /// FAT POSSUM RECORDS ///

My first exposure to Guy Blakeslee (aka Entrance) was last winter at Tonic in New York City. Playing on a bill that included soon-to-be indie darlings Devendra Banhart and Animal Collective, Blakeslee had the crowd in silenced awe with his jaw-dropping acoustic guitar playing, his booming voice, and his awesome re-working of Bob Dylan's "Just Like Tom Thumb's Blues."

His first album, The Kingdom of Heaven Must Be Taken By Storm, had its bright spots, but it didn't quite deliver on the promise of that night at Tonic. Released on the venerable blues label, Fat Possum Records, Blakeslee's second full length not only delivers, it is one of the best albums I've heard all year. Dedicated to his brother, the spectacular Wandering Stranger finds Blakeslee (ex-Convocation of...) continuing his exploration of his two biggest influences: Dylan and the blues. Although too loyal to traditional blues structures to be considered a part of the so-called "freak folk" scene that includes Banhart and Joanna Newsome, Blakeslee nonetheless shares their old-soul spirit, and is a logical companion on their backwoods, Appalachian revival.

Tender, lovingly rendered, and strangely uplifting, the songs on Wandering Stranger are about leaving, searching, and, of course, wandering the country. His cover of Townes Van Zandt's, "Rex's Blues," is a fitting choice, as Blakeslee assuredly carries Van Zandt's lonesome-troubadour torch. Of his two main influences, the obvious reference for Blakeslee's music is the blues, but he shares even more of a connection with Dylan. With two songs over 11 minutes long, one over 8 minutes, and another over 6 minutes, Blakeslee tells a story in each number. The songs are short on instrumentals and long on lyrics, bringing to mind Dylan classics like "Desolation Row." Unlike Dylan, however, Blakeslee's voice is not one of those love-it-or-hate-it deals. He has one of the most devastatingly powerful voices I've heard in the indie scene, swinging from beautiful falsettos to cracked weariness like an old country singer. Heard live, it is absolutely captivating.

Wandering Stranger, filled with lyrics about finding something better in life, filled with lyrics like, "The girls on the train in New York City frown so much they could never be pretty, darling," makes me want to ditch the city, hop on a bus, and go rediscover the decent things America has to offer. This album makes that kind of hurt seem so beautiful.

Paul Menchaca