Conor Kiley- OK Hotel

On OK Hotel, Conor Kiley rummages through junkie blooze, weather-beaten folk, and those big six-string choruses like he’s salvaging somebody else’s half-ruined American life from a shoebox in the attic, every song stained with the ghosts of hardluck lifers like Tim Hardin and Jackson C. Frank. These songs inhabit damaged beauty completely, turning isolation, nicotine haze, and cassette-static loneliness into a physical presence.