When he wasn’t riding with the Screeming Trees, his grunge gang, the tormented Mark Lanegan dared to go all the way with introspective solo works, the second of which, a gothic country wandering, remains the most accomplished. With his crooner’s voice shaped by alcohol and smoke, somewhere between Jim Morrison and Nick Cave, the tormented Seattle native, friend of Kurt Cobain, drowns his melancholy in sublime melancholic ballads.
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