His songs are so vivid you can almost brush the dust and dirt-road grit off of yourself after you listen to them. They are stories cut from the well traveled cloth of life...the dashboard camera view of the cultural Armageddon. These songs are about an America that has lost it's identity and it's connection with the human condition. You can see it in Malcolm Holcombe's eyes that he his deeply troubled by what is happening to the country even though he has seen the abandonment of his southern mountain culture from an early age. His people are among the forgotten, the forlorn...they worked the mountains and provided the power that built a nation but few were invited to take the ride. These songs ARE America...from one of it's true poet laureates with a guitar, a pen and a pent up anger that she can do better.
"Words of December" is a Dylan-esque dirge about the coldness and emptiness of life projected against the metaphor of winter. It is Holcombe at his mysterious best and his percussive, aggressive guitar playing builds the chill around haunting lyrics.
"Papermill Man" is the classic story of working your life away while the steel wheels of capitalism grind you to a bitter pulp. It's generational, like the generations that worked the mines, with fewer and fewer able to escape the prison-like labor camps of American factories. Work for the man until he has everything you can give...then you die.
Malcolm Holcombe - guitar, vocals
The Session Crew
Produced and edited by:
H. Nat Stevens
Dan Busler Photography