I had the feeling that most writing in this environment becomes an advertisement for yourself and your virtues. There is importance and beauty in writing characters and stories that are filled with the good you wish to see in the real world, but sitting around a table of like-minded individuals doesn’t always leave a lot of room for narrative art that is ugly and weird.

The story I’m telling is ugly and weird. It’s mean-spirited, it makes fun of its characters, it’s violent, and I go for cheap laughs. The songs that emerged for this project, the first I’ve written in over a decade, probably speak to an urge to make art like that, which I’ve likely repressed in my fiction writing for polite academia and peer-to-peer workshopping.

After foreshadowing opener ‘The Television Watcher’, single ‘I’m a Soldier’ introduced the tone of the record, not least how The Male Pattern’s style of storytelling manages to carry emotional and thematic weight despite its wacky, off-the-wall charms. “The undeniable irony and playfulness do nothing to undermine the heartbreaking loneliness running through its heart,” as we put it in our preview. “An anthem of America in 2026, where vapidity, ridiculousness and mean-spirited self-interest feel like symptoms of some dark, cursed pathology lurking beneath the surface.”

Latest single ‘Charlie (The Robbery)’ zips us further through the story, finding our protagonist sinking ever further into the underbelly of society, and teetering on the precipice of something far worse. He can’t quite get back on the job market, can’t keep his urine clean enough to satisying the state, has taken to carrying a gun around with the American urge that someone might give him an excuse to use it (“It’s my God-given right”). But firearms and narcotics have never been a good mix, especially not when the characters involved are quite so desperate, and an ostensibly foolproof plan to rob a small-time dealer inevitably tilts towards disaster. “This gun might be loaded but we only need to show it,” as the next verse goes, “And then it’s all for the taking, there’s no way to blow it.” Only, of course, there is a way to blow it. The obvious fate for anyone TV-brained swinging a loaded gun.

Stick ‘em up, this is a heist, put your hands up toward the sky
Don’t reach for that piece unless your ready for heat
Charlie looked like he was going to cry
I got too excited
I tried to say a line from The Dark Knight Rises
When Charlie made his move
I blew him half way across the room
I grabbed the score and I ran for the door

Photos by Andrew Piccone, album design & art by Edelweiss Cardenas

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For those unfamiliar, Thomas Dollbaum combines the stylings of alt-country that are very much en vogue with a beefier brand of heartland rock, tracing a lineage back through Molina and Springsteen as far as van Zandt, though there’s another set of influences that cannot go unmentioned. A parallel bloodline of writers (think Breece D’J Pancake, Barry Hannah and Larry Brown) who capture the beauty and sorrow in an often rough and tumble Southern existence. Interestingly, arguable heir apparent Ashleigh Bryant Phillips, whose short story collection Sleepovers is one of the best contemporary example of this literary genre, writes the liner notes and has a great interview with Dollbaum in Southwest Review, which digs deeper into the album’s literary influences, from Raymond Carver to the poetry of Jay Hopler, C.D. Wright, Joy Harjo and Philip Levine.

The country-rock-album-as-short-story-collection might not be a new idea, but paired with the aforementioned immediacy with which the songs were recorded, Birds of Paradise feels less like a set of penned vignettes and more like short glimpses at lives themselves. Each song drops the listener alongside its characters within their Southern homeland, people often on the margins of society, eking out a living within the transient space between a lost past and unknown future. Lead single ‘Dozen Roses’, arriving after the subdued and tender opener ‘Visitation’, plays like the album’s mission statement in this regard. A meditation on loss and the soothing wonder of the natural world that’s full of taut energy and forward motion, even while the narrator cycles back to the same sentiment, repeating themselves with increasing urgency.

When you were still around
I’d carry you across the river
I’d ramble through the dark until the time would deliver
Before the time would deliver

Many of the songs on Birds of Paradise are repetitive in this way, swinging back around to the same verses as if Dollbaum is working through thoughts in real time, lingering over memories both positive and not so much. This internal world provides a neat counterbalance to the present tense of many of the tracks which is altogether more transient. Our narrator(s) look for sure ground in the uncertainty of the in-between, or at least acceptance that the time spent on the “backroads leading to I-95” or “rambling through the pines” is not so much a path towards something as the body of life itself. Poignant closer ‘Blue Meets Blue’ confronts the idea head on, an ostensibly a fatalistic track (“There’s nowhere to go this is just a circle,” as Dollbaum sings, “there’s nowhere to run this is just landlocked blues”) that transforms acquiescence into a kind of charged catharsis.

It’s not too much of a reach to say this cyclical nature evokes another of the album’s key themes. Imagery of nature is abundant, and its rhythms extend across the songs as a backdrop to the very human emotions that often take centre stage. A place choked with vine and timber, where the waterbirds are strange and tall and coyotes howl at night. You only have to peek at the album art (an incredible embroidered quilt by Cora Nimtz) to understand the kind of picture Dollbaum paints across the record. Nature as something vivid and precious and undeniably peculiar, like some half-understood miracle which happens to occur all around. Yet, true to its setting, Birds of Paradise has dirt beneath its fingernails. Wonder and violence sit side by side. No more directly than on ‘Rabbits’, where the childhood innocence and bursting life is depicted as its own inversion, kids running through the burnt fields of Okeechobee with iron bars, trying to beat their siblings to the song’s titular prey as their mother watches on, keeping count.

This same mix of animation, desperation, melancholy and absurdity run through many of the songs, regardless of their subject matter. Take ‘King’s Landing’, with its childhood dream of a pilot’s license and the freedom it offers giving way to the mundane (“So lets go home and watch Judge Joe Brown / And reruns of Cops episodes in our home town”), though without ever extinguishing the desire and imagination which kicked off the fantasy in the first place. Or ‘Pulverize’, where a narrator fights the urge to look back through forward motion, then ‘Coyote’, where stasis seems to hold latent potential, as though some drastic act might materialise out of boredom itself. ‘Big Boi’ sees a teenaged Dollbaum act as chauffeur for a feuding couple strung out and desperate and looking to score. “Big Boi showed me his tattoos all down his arms,” Dollbaum sings, “said he got his nickname for being so goddamn large,” before switching the tone several shades darker, painting the titular character as a victim of the opioid crisis with the deft brevity of a poet.

Scars all from the emergency room
Asked me if I could fill a script too
Says he’s in a lot of pain right now
Who am I to say no to him anyhow?

Dollbaum might have recorded the album in the blink of an eye, but these are songs born of a lifetime in the worlds they inhabit. Places ignored by many, full of the kind of sensations we all too often forget. The dejection and sadness, yes, plus the weight of aborted dreams and all associated regrets, but also a nascent wonder which sits at the edge of our vision. A peculiar light which illuminates the future, colours the pictures of our memories. This might be human or mystical or else just something out in the wild, but we would do better if only we looked for it. Even if it can never really offer a satisfactory answer to whatever afflictions we’re called to bear. “I know you never believed / And me not in a long while,” as Dollbaum sings on opener ‘Visitation’, a fitting conclusion if you view the album as a cycle in itself. “But the older I get, the more I do magical thinking / About how the birds ride out on the sky / How the echoes hang out in the wind / How them ghosts are here in the light/ But you cant talk to any of them.”

Birds of Paradise is out now via Dear Life Records and available from the Thomas Dollbaum Bandcamp page.

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The result is what the band call “a series of vignettes and character sketches that examine agency, belief, and the tensions between the natural and the human-built environment,” all delivered with the trademark nuance of the Constellation Myths sound. A record which began during the depths of the pandemic and only grew more timely in the volatile aftermath. “The songs that make up The Cost of Living are preoccupied with things very much at the heart of our current social and political crisis,” they continue, “class resentments, petty jealousies, false prophets, vigilante justice, the warping of our shared sense of reality by a toxic online culture.”

Lead single and opening track ‘Spare Room’ provides a glimpse into the album. A slow-burning, downbeat meditation on separation and aging which nevertheless carries a certain warmth, tapping into a long lineage on down-your-their-luck country singers to locate a certain wistful charm within the loneliness. The song builds as it progresses, leaning into the small comforts of such a feeling, culminating in an affirming, harmony-laden finale as though to remind itself life continues in even the wake of great change.

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This new positive direction is clear from the start of How To Dance, the band toning down whatever indie rock leanings they had on their previous releases in favour of a full-bodied country sound. Opening track ‘Calvander’ pitches us right into the mix, a buoyant Americana song with snappy riffs and limber vocals and good-time horns. Though beneath this veneer lays the true value of Mount Moriah’s music. Heather McEntire’s lyrics have always been a cut above the standard fare, and here you get the sense she has honed her craft further still. Poetic yet simple, indirect without being indistinct, she conjures beauty from both the environment and the interior thoughts of her characters.

“Carry on and on and on on
With your cosmic reach
Newport river whispered fate
Spells cast with every crashing wave
Neon lines and a new name
Held up my palm and I offered up my face
Blue heart and a dark mind
Looking for any kind some kind of sign
I swear to God tonight
Those Jacksonville boys ain’t gonna find
Sweet Company”

As ‘Calvander’ suggests, the main theme of the record is one of belief, of finding meaning or hope in unlikely places, and ‘Precita’ is about just that, a chance encounter leading to something something special. “We turned into gold,” she sings, “and we turned into stars / The highest soul has the whitest spark”. ‘Baby Blue’ is a song about new beginnings, and while the refrain tells us that “nothing lasts forever”, the track is the antithesis of despair, urging us to appreciate good times while they’re present and to live in the moment. Though the lyrics feel intimate and personal, McEntire dedicates this sentiment to all who need to hear it, as shown by one of the album’s liner notes:

‘Chiron (God in the Brier)’ is an upbeat track, filled with a positivity captured perfectly in the opening line (“Light came knocking, knocking on my door and I got no need for you no more!”). The track is rich in imagery and symbolism, its golden hours and harvest moons and crows and stags and ravens all very much loaded and meaningful. To push further, the titular Chiron is a notable centaur from Greek mythology, set apart from others for his abilities as a healer and oracle and his noble sacrifice of immortality (to become the constellation Centaurus), while Chiron Healing is a technique involving the understanding and repair of energy which surrounds us (including past emotions and experiences), facts which show just how far you can descend into these songs if you so choose.

‘Cardinal Cross’ provides another rabbit hole down which to tumble, referencing the cardinal grand cross of astrology. Essentially, a grand cross is formed when the four planets are equidistant and separated by 90 degrees, meaning the different aspects of a person are straining in opposite directions to create a tension-filled stalemate, and a cardinal grand cross ramps things up further as the cardinal signals of the zodiac are identity-based. As such, the track finds McEntire asking such questions (“Are you the woman you wanted to be?”) together with further abstract references we’ll leave you to figure out (cohosh, cinnamon, pendulums and heron to name a few). One of the beauties of How To Dance is that it’s as abstract as you want it to be, working on a variety of levels to ensure that no listener is alienated no matter how much work and faith they want to put into the symbolism on show.

“Eyes to the skies now slowly lift the veil.
Are you the woman you wanted to be?
The inner is outer, the inner is free!
Are you the lover you wanted to be?
Eclipse is a mirror, the mirror is me!
Grand, Grand Arsenal, Cardinal Cross!”

‘Fox in the City’ is a slow song where the past lingers like a low fog, the lyrics littered with references to North Carolina’s Carrboro, while ‘Higher Mind’ finds us jumping all over America, from California (“Honey Lake, 395”) to Macon, Georgia. While the song feels like the detailing of a personal journey, there is an overriding sense of community here, as if McEntire if sharing her story in preparation to hear our own. “We all got vices cause the pain still flows,” she sings, “we all got things we’re afraid to show. Do you have something to show?” This sense of unity is important to the record and Mount Moriah as a whole, transcending the lock of personal experience to be something directly relevant to us all, placing the mystical aspects into better context. McEntire isn’t looking to the gods and stars and natural world for some arcane secret she can wear around her neck. She’s looking and pointing and asking questions, never settling for what is accepted as normality or truth. She’s standing right there next to you and suggesting you do the same.

And this is where the record really clicks. We said earlier that the music works no matter how much work you are prepared to put in, but the phrasing is misleading. No amount of effort will obtain the true meaning because the meaning is not in the symbols but rather in the questioning. The imagery does not add up to any steadfast truth, because for us or anyone else to say, categorically, x means y would be to impose the very restrictions McEntire and Co. are trying to escape. The title track confronts this with graceful subtlety, a series of gentle questions which get to the heart of the societal pressure that tries to enforce a rigid existence.

“Baby, do you like to dance?
Do you like it slow or sorta fast?
Got a lot of people telling me how to dance”

So for all of it’s intricacies, which are undoubtedly interesting and rewarding to explore, the record is a simple one. How to Dance is crafted from spirit and faith, carved out of a high, wide hope capable of healing any wounds, giving us the courage not just to survive, but to live.

You can buy How to Dance now from Merge Records, including a rather lovely limited-edition coke bottle clear vinyl. Mount Moriah also have a Bandcamp page if that’s more your thing.

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‘Catchyalater’ is one of my favourite songs from the album, the perfect blend of wit, emotion and pop culture references. As we wrote in our review:

“With ambient sound clips and gentle, emotive vocals, ‘Catchyalater’ brings to mind The Antlers in their In The Attic of The Universe stage… contain[ing] some irresistibly quotable lines”

To give you an idea, the quotable lines include nods to Alanis Morissette and Patrick Ewing, punks and cokes and flicks at the mall, essentially forming (as is most of the album) an ode to America and the past more generally. The remixes are great too, as you might expect. Jack Hayter slows down the pace but dials up the tortured emotion, while Benjamin Shaw leans on the ambient recordings and serves up a slice of soothing introspection. New track ‘God’s Tinnitus’ feels wrapped up and insular, the receding lulls almost more conspicuous than the clanging piano that punctuates it, the whispered vocals hushed and hurried in equal measure, “Sometimes I think that the crickets are just God’s tinnitus”.

‘Catchyalater’ is out on the 22nd of January on Audio Antihero, but you can listen to the whole release below:

The single release just so happens to coincide with Frog’s imminent tour of the UK (dates/poster below). If seeing the duo live wasn’t excitement enough, the transatlantic trip is serving a second purpose – the creation of the fan-funded blockbuster, Frog: Across the Pond. Yep, the boys have enlisted (or maybe were enlisted by) filmmaker Alex Coppola to make a film about their UK adventure. Described as part concert video, part road movie, this project has all the makings of something special. Put it this way, there’ll be a lot more Oscar-boycotting in 2017 if this isn’t nominated. I mean, check out the tagline:

When two friends discover that their little band is big overseas, they decide to try their luck on the other side of the Atlantic.

If you (unlike us, boo!) can get to a show, check out the dates below and try and immortalise yourself on the silver screen:

Jan 23rd – The Waiting Room, Colchester (with Roy / Sophie Nash / Chris Fox)
Jan 24th – Servant Jazz Quarters, London (with Alex Chilltown / Owl & Mouse)
Jan 25th – Fulford Arms, York (with The Drink)
Jan 27th – The Hug & Pint, Glasgow
Jan 29th – Venue TBA, Edinburgh (with Plastic Animals)
Jan 30th – DIY Space for London, London (with Rainmaker / The Johns / Brunch / Crows An Wra)

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The band has three members, Tim McWilliams, Misa Giroux and David Funderburk, share both the songwriting and vocal responsibilities, which creates a nice balance between male and female vocals.. A multitude of instruments are also used including acoustic guitars, banjos, mandolin, organ and musical saw.

Carolina serves as an artistic homage to the region, the product of the artistic efforts of three talented individuals. If you’re into folk/alt-country music then I suggest you check this out.

You can buy Carolina now via the Redleg Husky online store, or their Bandcamp page.

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