There are bands that grow older, and there are bands that simply grow truer. The Smith Street Band has always belonged to the latter category. From the first chorus of Once I Was Wild, it’s clear they’re not trying to reinvent themselves so much as refine the storm, to take every cracked voice, every bruised lyric, every stubborn ounce of hope, and hammer it into something sharper, heavier, and impossibly more human. Where past records have sprawled, sometimes messy in the wa

There’s something almost feral in Dear Wanderlust. It isn’t pretty; it’s weathered. It’s the sound of restless feet dragging through city streets at dawn, scraping against concrete and carrying old bones. Hoist the Colors have always flirted with contradiction, punk’s urgency, folk’s roots, Celtic strings in smogged alleys, but this record tilts that collision toward something deeper, darker, more alive. From the first crack of string and snare, you’re aware that Dear Wanderl

Well, what do we have here? Seems a couple of Yankees from south of the border want to try fandangle their way into the land of free...