“amERICa” Coast to Coast

12 CHAPEL HILL NC Local 506
13 CHARLOTTE NC Double Door Inn
14 KNOXVILLE TN Songwriter in the Soul House, Sweet P’s Barbecue 6 p.m. show
15 ATLANTA GA Mammal Gallery
16 KNOXVILLE TN Record Store Day, Lost & Found Records
21 HUNTSVILLE AL Yellowhammer Brewery
22 MEMPHIS TN Galloway House
23 NASHVILLE TN Fond Objects
28 COLUMBIA SC The Spaze
29 ATLANTA GA The Mess Around
30 TAMPA FL Tropical Heatwave Festival

01 SAVANNAH GA Congress St Social Club
04 HATTIESBURG MS Thirsty Hippo
05 NEW ORLEANS LA Chickie Wah Wah
06 LAFAYETTE LA Lagniappe Records
11 HOUSTON TX Under The Volcano
12 BRYAN TX Revolutions
13 AUSTIN TX Hole In The Wall
15 MARFA TX The Lost Horse
17 TUCSON AZ Hotel Congress
21 LOS ANGELES CA private event
22 LOS ANGELES CA Wombleton Records
27 CHICO CA house concert (details to be announced)
28 SAN FRANCISCO CA The Make Out Room
29 PORTLAND OR Turn! TurnI Turn!

03 CALGARY Palomino Smokehouse
07 WINNIPEG The Park Theatre
09 SIOUX CITY The Chesterfield
10 SIOUX FALLS SD Total Drag
12 INDIANAPOLIS IN State Street Pub
13 COLUMBUS OH Ace Of Cups
15 DETROIT MI UFO Factory details
16 ROCHESTER NY Abilene Bar & Lounge

more US dates to follow…

Wreckless Eric is Eric Goulden. He was given the name to hide behind. After a while he realised he was stuck with it. Onstage he hides behind nothing, he tells the truth with big open chords, squalls of feedback, lilting enchantment, bizarre stories and backchat.

Nothing Eric has to say sounds like it was said by someone else first. Some people can’t take it. Thirty seven years of touring have left him in good shape. He’s coming to town.

His new album “amERICa” is out now on Fire Records enjoying universal acclaim from critics and public alike.

One of the greatest songwriters ever to come out of Great Britain Marc Riley BBC 6 MUSIC

amERICa is that rare record. Goulden is grownup, with all of the stereotypical benefits: an air of wisdom, emotional texture, and, perhaps most cliché of all, a seasoned voice. amERICa isn’t complacent or satisfied; Wreckless Eric anatomizes his surroundings with the wide-eyed thrill of discovery. His American flyover reveals simmering cultural disturbances and essential beauty alikePitchfork

Wreckless Eric has always been a pop musician. That is, he writes melodies with hooks in the chorus and fills his verses with quick, vivid details aimed to make you nod your head in recognition. The precise nostalgia and wry yearning he brings to this slice of autobiography rings true, funny and poignant. Ken Tucker, NPR/Fresh Air

Instantly recognizable but eternally individual, Wreckless Eric’s first solo album in over a decade opens with a slice of defiant autobiography that really is all the background you need.  If you know Eric from past glories or even gories, then you’ll know everything he’s singing about.  And, if you don’t, then you’re even luckier because AmERICa will unfold before your drooling ears like the movie you’ve been waiting to fall in love with for so long, but been too bound up in cookie crumbs to embrace.

Partially, possibly, inspired by the near relentless touring that has occupied him over the past few years; possibly partly fed by his innumerable encounters with elderly fans who look at him sideways as he takes to the stage and ask “didn’t you used to be Len Bright?,” Wreckless may or may not be feeling buoyed by a recent clutch of reissued classics.

But he’s also turning in one of the most vibrant albums of his career, a collection that picks its targets well, then marries them to the kind of tunefulness that speaks volumes for his own poptastic instincts and doesn’t care a bespectacled dwarf for anything outside of his own frame of reference.

As he sings in “Transitory Thing“ (a drifting kind of ballad whose mournful mood belies an off kilter hopefulness that ranks among his most hard-hitting lyrics ever), “travel broadens the mind, but I must be the stay-at-home kind” and you suddenly realize how  gloriously and unapologetically timeless this album is.  Even when he announces, with no fanfare beforehand, “so this is the space age.  Isn’t it crap.”

Guitars are as chunky as they ought to be, percussion as crunching, other things as stompy.  You put it on and crank it up, and suddenly you’re a kid again, no matter when you were born, first time alone in your parents house, with no-one to tell you to turn it down, a broom for a guitar and a hairbrush for a mike, leaping off the sofa like Pete Townshend off an amp stack, and wondering why doesn’t every record makes you feel as alive as AmERICa.

Because not many records are as alive as AmERICa, and there’s even fewer people around who could write songs as sparkling as those that fill it up.

A teetering pile of wax and CDs insists, compilations of previously released stuff notwithstanding, that this is Eric’s seventeenth album, under seven different identities.  Most of them are marvelous, a few are better than that.  One is the best LP released by anybody, anywhere, throughout the course of an entire decade, and that’s one helluva legacy for anyone to balance on.

But AmERICa might just have kicked them all over, and insisted we start counting again.

Dave Thompson
October 26th 2015

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