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Rock & roll is rarely defined by maturity. By its nature, it’s boisterous, free-wheeling and hedonistic—not often are those words associated with the wisdom gained through life experience. On their forthcoming self-titled LP, however, New York City’s Mail the Horse defy these connotations, seamlessly blending raucous boot-stomping rock & roll with nuanced self-examination and expression. As the band’s members enter their 30s, their music has retained the bar-room romance and youthful abandon that characterized 2015’s Planet Gates and 2016’s Magnolia, but songwriters Michael “Hess” Hesslein and Mike “Donny” Amidon have turned their focus towards the existential hangover that occurs when the party is over.
Since 2010, Mail the Horse have been churning out rootsy rock & roll that has garnered high praise from numerous media outlets including Brooklyn Vegan, Paste Magazine, Spin, Relix, Exclaim, PopMatters and more, and that saw them captivating audiences at high-profile festivals including Bonnaroo, Firefly Festival, and South By Southwest. Throughout it all, the band has maintained a steadfast DIY ethos, self-funding nationwide tours in a run-down school bus, and releasing each of their records either on their own label, Sexual Decade, or on close friends’ small imprints. On Mail the Horse, the band decided to take it one step further and self-produce and record the album at Amidon’s house in Stanfordville, New York, isolating themselves from the outside world and crafting an album that fully encapsulates their independent spirit.
“Recording this was really eye-opening in terms of realizing what this band really is,” says Hess. “My original idea had been to record in a proper studio like last time and we tried that for a few days and just hated it. We scrapped those recordings and went up to Donny’s place to do it ourselves. We really wanted to get away from outside influence, so we did it at home, no producer, tracking live—just pure Mail the Horse.”
Mail the Horse kicks off with “Gimme Gimme,” a rollicking burst of timeless rock & roll that blends Sticky Fingers-era Rolling Stones swagger with Hess’ surreal and reflective lyrics about romantic exhaustion and getting older. “When you’re dating in your 20s, you’re trying to find someone to do something real with, but everyone’s so confused about what they’re doing and who they are it can get to be real exhausting,” he says. These sentiments are echoed and expanded upon in “Sweet Red Lies,” where Hess explores cohabitation, the performative nature of romantic relationships and the worry that comes with being unaware if you’re living up to the expectations of your partner.
On the soulful, gospel-inspired “Kid Gloves,” Hess tackles the concept of fragile masculinity. Loosely based on the current President—but reflective of traditional masculinity as a whole—Hess depicts a stubborn, fragile man, steadfast in his ways but prone to crumbling at the slightest provocation. “Keep it light / Keep it off the ground my man / Ain’t got no saddle, I’m free / But you gotta wear kid gloves around me.”
Elsewhere on Mail the Horse, Amidon reflects on his personal demons and social injustices in equal measure. The upbeat, thumping rhythm section and beautiful vocal harmonies highlighted on “Purple Yellow Shade” almost mask the song’s anxious self-examination as Amidon sings, “I got country women singin’ on my mind / I don’t wanna be lonesome all the time. / I got a little thing called drinkin’ on my mind / But i don’t wanna be wasted all the time.” Meanwhile, the Amidon-penned album closer, “P-Town” calls attention to the realities of income and social inequality in modern America, exploring the ways that it affects small town communities, personal lives, relationships & more, and the way that modern political rhetoric intensifies those effects.
For much of Mail the Horse’s existence, the band were fully immersed in each others lives, living together in a dilapidated basement apartment in Bushwick Brooklyn affectionately referred to as Gates Motel. These days, things are a little different. Gates Motel is no more. Amidon moved out of the city. Bassist Brendan Smith owns and operates a screen printing business. Pedal steel player Chris May moved to New Mexico, lives in a camper, and is working on a novel. In 2016, original drummer Will Lawrence joined The Felice Brothers and was replaced by Andrew Joseph Weaver. Gone are the days of constant parties and mid-20s debauchery, but the bond between band members has continued to grow. As Hess explains it, “These guys are like family. We can go days, weeks without talking and then it’s totally normal when we see each other. There’s this unspoken agreement that we’ve just got each other’s backs—it’s not friendship, it’s brotherhood.”
“A happy marriage of late-’60s instrumentation with the rough-edged attitude of early-’00s garage-rock.” – SPIN
“A walking juxtaposition of outsider cosmic-country and psych-folk sounds and the concrete-laden cityscape of Brooklyn.” – Paste Magazine
“Embued with an early ’70s rock n’ roll spirit, be it the twangy leanings of the Stones and the Kinks during that time, or the gritty street life of Lou Reed.” – Brooklyn Vegan
“Twangy guitars, slinky pedal steel and drawling vocals invite listeners in to the group’s unique world of Americana.” – Exclaim
“Galloping percussion and guitar wash up to meet Amidon’s head-pounding lyrics and the struggle to balance music-making and mundane, everyday life.” – American Songwriter
“The kind of rock as at home in a Williamsburg bar as a Topeka barn, a universal style meant to unite.” – PopMatters
“A raw and bluesy critique of toxic and fragile masculinity full of soulful and heartfelt ire.” – Atwood Magazine
