Strangers

As good as The Felice Brothers were, the group in hindsight seem like a warm-up for drummer Simone Felice’s solo career. His sophomore album, *Strangers*, presents him as a singer/songwriter of exceptional sensitivity and craft, combining the literary skills of a published author (which he happens to be) with the melodic gifts of a classic folk-rock troubadour. Felice’s lyrics tell stories with a deeply compassionate touch—he revels in telling details without losing sight of larger emotional truths. There’s a ragged yet resolute authority to his vocals, rooting his lyrics in common experiences rather than pop mythology. “Bye Bye Palenville” (a tale of responsibility and freedom set in Felice’s home town), “The Best That Money Can Buy” (a bittersweet look at parenthood), and “Our Lady of the Gun” (a meditation on American violence) examine serious themes with a high sense of tragedy. Songs like “Running Through My Head” and “Bastille Day” build to choruses at once tormented and sublime. *Strangers*’ music is likewise eloquent, shading acoustic guitar and piano lines with occasional cellos and banjos.

When a band breaks up, you usually don't count on the drummer to be the one with the remarkable solo career (don't mention Dave Grohl; he's the exception that proves the rule), but with the Felice Brothers presumably a thing of the past, the group's former timekeeper Simone Felice is the one who has been stepping forward with an impressive body of work.

Strangers is Felice's most measured and thoughtful album to date, says Neil McCormick