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BIO
Andrew
Anderson is a 23-year-old Idaho-native who is new
to the Austin music scene. On his new album, As
Long As This Thing’s Flyin’, he captures the
rebellious independent - an American in the
unspoiled west who wrestles with nature, with God,
and with his own unfortunate plight; someone
perpetually foiled in love and righteousness, and
trapped in a corrupt world.
In
“Necessary Casualties” Andrew tells of loss and
poverty, the effects of family away at war, and a
country torn for self-serving motives. He rebukes
the country’s leaders, “I don’t see your sons
heading off to war. All I see are the sons of the
laid off, the jobless, the poor,” and mentions
his own parents and brother. He sings with such
vulnerability that no one could mistake his cowboy
attitude as an act.
Andrew
would cite the melancholy of Townes Van Zandt and
Chris Thile’s artful blend of folk and rock as
inspirations. But his music also recalls David
Bazan’s raw composition and Adam Duritz’s soulful,
if imperfect, vocals. One thing is certain, he
dominates on the mandolin.
Andrew
began playing mandolin at age 15, inspired by
Thile's music, and entirely self-taught. His
record for writing and playing his own music goes
back much farther thanks to a musical family and
access to his mother's piano and his father's
guitar. He attended Berklee College of Music in
Boston, MA for mandolin performance. His guitar
playing is good, but his fingers are so fast on
the mandolin, it makes your eyes water.
The
nomadic life of a songwriter has traced his road
from Idaho to Seattle to Boston and back again.
Boston didn’t poison his imagery with ivy halls,
or city lights. His songs paint lonesome highways
that stretch into nowhere, a neighbor with a gun,
and a dame he can’t win. The world through
Andrew’s eyes is one where all lessons are learned
from mistakes, the ghosts of which still haunt
him. In “Fists up, Chin Down” he sings, “I left
her. I’m not saying I regret it, but I’ve paid
dearly for it. Now what am I to do?”
Andrew
would like to be the next Hank Williams, but, he
says, “I don’t want to die in the back of a car.”
Sure enough, he sings about hiding his demons from
his mother in “The Hawk”. “Momma, I just don’t
want you to worry. Momma, I just don’t want you to
cry. So, Momma, it’s just best if you don’t see me
when I die.”
Andrew’s music ranges from full band, pulsing
blues-rock, to the lightest country croon. Every
song is made with wooden instruments and sounds as
though it could have been recorded 50 years ago.
That’s Andrew’s real charm, the feeling that he
might have traveled from a simpler time when life
really was just broken hearts and an old dusty
trail.
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