Kuinka is not only a folk band in the purest sense of the term, they are also innovators within that sound. Hearing a band like this is like sipping from a perfect cup of tea; like golden sun pouring through the shades, slightly open, after a good night’s sleep; like turning the shower to the right temperature on the first try and stepping in, all in one fell swoop. In short, it’s refreshing, joyous, and probably just what you need if your day could be going better than it is. 

In recent history, the mainstream has picked up the folk-revival sound and put it on the same radio playlists as Top 40 club bangers. In a time when it is all too easy to dilute this kind of folk into a pop-music conceit, Kuinka crafts songs that are engaging and original with a proper amount of established canon and innovation. Stories are laced through the lyrics, there are celebrations as well as lamentations-there is synth and cello! It is such a wonderful thing to hear a sound you’ve adored for so long ameliorated like this, with nothing missing, only new possibilities added to the mix. 

Kuinka, according to their website, means “how” in Finnish, as in, “how does a band continue to evolve artistically and challenge themselves while staying true to their own roots?” Well, if that was their goal, they achieved it. There’s a formula for good music that seems to fit quite often, at least from a critical standpoint: take your inspirations, your roots, and put them on display. Own up to where you’ve come from. Then obfuscate, obliterate, and ameliorate: make it better, make it yours. The alchemy of past and future is a hard one to grasp, and even harder to master. Kuinka, though, just might be the alchemist who can get the job done.

It takes only the first few lines of a Twain song to understand that his lyrical imagery is unrivaled. Accompanied by his guitar or piano alone, the biggest ideas are pouring out of the smallest possible band. Twain delivers his stories and prophecies through a vessel that us as humans can comprehend: the venerable folk song. The songwriting is focused and assured, armed with the diction and foresight of a prophet. But all this genius comes with an undeniably humble cadence; it’s like the voice of a weary traveler you bring into your home during a snowstorm, only to find that they’ve just gotten back from the furthest corners of the earth and the deepest chasms of the human psyche.

There’s this ring, this twang, to his voice. It makes him believable-it makes him honest. It also makes him inimitable. Someone else equipped with the same voice might act erroneously upon it, but Twain matches it with instrumentation that denies pomp and flashiness-for-the-sake-of-being-flashy and fits the tone of the song in a way that can only be understood through listening.

Twain seems to understand things about life and humanity that should be obvious to everyone, but aren’t. Whether he’s considering the different ways we valuate love, or dissecting evil and desire, he’s mixing fact with fiction to create a parable the size of a tapestry. 

Despite all this serious talk, Twain’s music is also just pleasing to listen to. You could put it on in the background the next time you’re sitting around with some friends-but don’t get upset when they start to ignore what you’re saying to listen in a little deeper to the music.

The trio of City of the Sun are amongst a new breed of instrumental guitarists. The band formed in 2011 and consists of one acoustic guitar player, one nylon string guitar player and a percussionist. Their styles range from gypsy jazz to post rock and psych folk. Imagine Explosions in the Sky making an acoustic world music LP. It’s an interesting and new genre. We’re excited to see what these guys do next.

If you’re listening to the audio session, you might be surprised to find out that this band is made up of only two people. But if you’re watching the video session, the duo’s chemistry reveals itself to be powerful enough to make all that noise. 

’68 is the passion-child of hard rock veteran Josh Scogin. He was a founding member of both Norma Jean and The Chariot, so there’s a good chance you’ve heard this guy destroy a microphone at some point in your life. ’68 is a completely different monster from everything he’s done before. The intensity is taken to an all-time high, yet the songwriting has never felt so personal. Lyrics like “I could have been anyone from anywhere / But I chose to be me” give ‘68’s music an undeniable sense of humanity, no matter how much despair the rest of the song might be in. 

’68 mixes pure metal instrumentals with a punk essence. A sense of rebellion matches their sense of introspection, and occasional melodies parallel the noise rock-which goes on to smash those melodies into a wall of sound. The strangest thing about this band is that sometimes tradition folk and blues elements will make themselves apparent in the songs. This all leaves the listener with a lot to pick through. If I may say so, this might just be the heaviest band I’ve ever seen take on the Horseshack.