Words by Sean Moeller, Illustration by Johnnie Cluney, Recording engineered by Mike Gentry
Hunterchild songs are hungry and haunting. They are dehydrated and dirty. They have silver moonlight sticking to them like a film. They are a rustling of sweaty sheets filled with racing minds and hearts, caught up in bouts of insomnia that's been cooked up by the pangs and the blows of torturous love. Love and the people experiencing whatever shreds of it they're getting are hoarse with it. They thrive as they hurt and ache for the body of another very specific person.
The way that Luke Aaron Jones sings these gray area love songs is the way a person sings to some living thing hanging on for dear life. Love is in trouble. There is a strong, thumping pulse, but something is horribly wrong, even when all the sentiments are right, even when it feels like this is a feeling that's so special.
Jones and multi-instrumentalist Marty Sprowles have made, with their debut album, an accomplished and spectacular collection of songs that are bleeding as they're flying. It's a stunning outing filled with epic emotions that recall big U2 moments and especially that glorious, dogged feeling of being a man with swollen chest, out there drowning in the deep.
Hunterchild Official Site
Temporary Residence Records