Whiskey for the Holy Ghost

On Thursday morning, I left town and headed up North to Orcas Island for a couple days. The whole trip was transformative, to say the least. No one was up there. The island was pretty much empty. But most importantly, it was quiet. I mean dead quiet. So I walked around in the woods, stared at mountains, watched eagles, and drove around the island's back roads listening to CDs with the windows down. I had a whole stack with me, but Mark Lanegan's Whiskey for the Holy Ghost kept me company more than any other. I hadn't really listened to Lanegan much before, but now I am completely obsessed. This record is a masterpiece of Americana. Like no one else before him, Lanegan captured that wide-open emptiness of his native central Washington and mixed it with the soggy urban blues of early 90s Seattle. He was an absolute product of his environment, and I am now a firm believer that he is one of the most underrated artists of our time. Ok, nuff said. I just had to get that off my chest.