Muchacho

Muchacho is also Houck’s most accomplished release to date—his most heartrending and life-affirming, equal parts lost-love devastation and hip-swaying, horn-led exultation.

On Muchacho, Houck gathers together everything he's attempted-- beery, rollicking country-rock, haunted tribal hymnals, regret-soaked bar room heartbreak-- and fashions it into something close to a defining statement.

It’s rare to find a lyricist so honest and a vocalist so earnest, and when put into song it seems to Houck as if every word is vital and cathartic and necessary. 

This atmospheric, rewarding gem that, despite its decidedly downbeat subject material, hops effortlessly over various woe-is-me traps is certainly worth the trouble its author’s had to go through to produce it.

While the more traditional sounding songs that remain are unquestionably excellent, it does seem odd to leave such a good idea only half explored.

Muchacho combines the best elements of his previous albums—a dash of country twang here, a sprinkle of naturalistic imagery there—and concocts a brew that’s less beer and tears than it is pensive earnestness.

Phosphorescent's Matthew Houck augments his usual reedy Americana stylings with some unexpected developments on Muchacho.

A hell of a production.

Phosphorescent has followed 2010's country-rock homage Here's To Taking It Easy with an equally magnificent beast, mixing country jams with claustrophobic electronica and mournful Mariachi horns to create a beautiful but discomforting album.

A beautiful outing in hauntingly pastoral heartbreak. Impressive.

He can do a tender, dreamy pop song, or he can plug in and just get straight to rocking. And anything in between is fair game.

This stark honesty is much of the appeal of Muchacho, a record that finds that some things might be past fixing, but always comfortable in the knowledge that there's another sunrise on the way. 

No matter what happens to Phosphorescent from here on out, Muchacho is an artist setting a new standard.