Texas-bred John Wesley Coleman, a self-professed ‘trash poet’, has cultivated a rep as one of the most preeminent and distinct artists on the US indie scene, since the ’90s.
Arguably, he’s made his biggest splash with psych garage five-piece Golden Boys but that would be to do his solo work a great disservice. The latest instalment, new album Microwave Dreams, was released last month and it captures exactly what John Wesley Coleman III is all about.
Coleman’s songs boasts a canny knack for witty storytelling and turn of phrase, none-more-so than the album’s opener, ‘Shovel’. An impassioned stomper driven by scratchy guitars, fuzz, whirring alarm and steady backbeat, it finds a balance between frayed-cuff wit and earnest sentimentality. There’s a weariness to Coleman’s voice – disenchanted and tired – all he do is laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. It’s gritty, catchy and passionate, and imbued by a real devil-may-care attitude, it a wonderful intro to John Wesley Coleman III’s new record.