With his cowboy hat, song titles like "Cheap Cocaine" and a possum on a recent album cover, Willi Carlisle might seem like one more bumpkin in a long string of Southern-rooted three chord rock cliches. That image evaporates once his songs rove o’er your ears and awaken your brain, capturing decidedly non-redneck moments like recognizing generational trauma, wobbling on the tightrope of tension between the longing to love and the torment of pain, despising prejudice and inspiring comments like “Wow, wasn’t expecting to feel this sad and I love it.”

Carlisle’s musician father played classical trumpet, rowdy bluegrass and tuba in a polka band. He’d given that up by the time his son picked up a guitar seeking to recreate the stories of his pop’s glory days, and in doing so learning banjo, accordion, harmonica and fiddle to create a blend of tex mex, cajun and old timey music. Along the way, he became a show-stealer, writing lines “The soul is an idiot and it doesn’t care why” and “I’m tired of twentysomethings and their punk rock songs,” sweetening the truth with humour and inviting listeners in to the big-tent of the heart, where you’ve “Gotta let everybody in” while letting his queerness be a fact rather than a focus.

-Mary-Lynn Wardle