The new Tallest Man on Earth record, The Wild Hunt, reminds me of someone looking out the window onto a vista of a shit ton of forest trees. Safe in the high perch of some cabin and closed in by glass but brushed by a breeze from the cracked-open door, our viewer gazes at the woods and dreams about being there. It’s not that he doesn’t travel in the woods, or go out there and make a fire every so often; it’s just that it’s nice to have this separation- sometimes the woods are out there, and he’s inside, safe.
Our viewer picks up his guitar or sometimes sits at his rough wooden table gazing into the distance and drinking black coffee out of a chipped ceramic mug and he gets to thinking that though today the air is relatively crisp and cool, he’ll go out without a jacket and sit in the grass. Yeah it’s nature idyllic, but that’s what the Tallest Man is all about. It’s about having the balls to be rustic. Manhattan-strolling Dylan this is not. There’s more razor-edged wind and insistent guitar strumming.
The Tallest Man on Earth is Kristian Matsson. He’s from Sweden and he says he’ll be leaving in the fall. Don’t worry though, he’ll be here all summer.
