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For the past seven years Matt Arbogast has been using the name The Gunshy to disguise himself from the songs he writes. What started in a Lancaster, PA, attic with a couple of friends and an eight track machine has evolved into a consistently touring and recording process of life for him.
Arbogast self-released those attic songs in 2002 as his debut album, To Remember/To Forget, and began a seven week tour immediately. His travels introduced him to a world of comradere, booze, and sleeping on floors that quickly became his home. His second album, No Man’s Blues, was initially self-released, then quickly re-released in 2004 by Latest Flame Records, who had been given a copy by his tourmates at the time, Troubled Hubble. Impressed by the album and Arbogast's conviction, they were anxious to offer their support. After critical acclaim and lengthy touring behind No Man’s Blues, Arbogast relocated The Gunshy to Chicago. With the big city came the addition of more instrumentation to his songs. The result, 2005's Souls, was perceived by critics and admirers alike as a great step forward for The Gunshy. On the day of it's release, Julia Simon of Spin.com wrote, “If Matt Arbogast's debut as The Gunshy wasn't enough to catapult him into the storytelling ranks of Destroyer's Dan Bejar and Silver Jews' David Berman -- those kings of self-referential literariness -- his third LP, Souls, will.”
Though his songs have allowed him to travel the States nineteen times and join most of his favorite artists on stage, Arbogast still maintains the DIY ethics that initially allowed him to do what he loves. He often prefers art spaces or house shows to the typical club setting. "It's sad and frustrating that the most popular form of art is so often restricted to those of drinking age. I drink plenty, but would prefer to play a living room of ten people listening to songs than a bar of hundreds too drunk to listen," he says. He’s the type of performer you’ll find watching other bands play or drinking a beer with his host on the couch in someone’s living room, rather than hiding backstage with his rider of expensive liquor.
When he’s not on the road (which is only about half the year), you'll find Matt either at the Green Eye on Western and Milwaukee in Chicago, at a show around town, writing and recording songs, or keeping in touch with those he's met on the road. He may not be handwriting all of those correspondences as his grandfather did, but you will hear in these songs from whom Matt inherited his wordsmith abilities…Please listen to and enjoy There Is No Love In This War, out October 30, 2007 on Latest Flame Records.
The Gunshy's There's No Love In This War:
Matt Arbogast, Andrew Bryant, Kara Eubanks, Jeff Grabowski, Ben Grigg, Dan Hanke, Andrew Lanthrum, Adam Penly, Hawley Shoffner, Corey Wills.
"On his fourth LP as the Gunshy, Matt Arbogast tells the story of his grandfather Paul's military service in World War II; the lyrics to these 17 tracks are cribbed from letters Paul wrote to his wife (Matt's grandmother) between 1943 and 1945. A raspy, smoke-curdled voice reminiscent of the Dropkick Murphys' Mike McColgan or latter-day Bob Dylan conveys wartime calamity with heartbreaking authenticity."
- Magnet
"For his fourth album, Gunshy leader Matt Arbogast looked elsewhere for inspiration: the letters his grandfather wrote his grandmother while stationed overseas during World War II. The Chicago group's new album, There's No Love In This War, turns 17 of his letters into song, from quiet laments to rollicking chanties. Arbogast's breathy rasp makes the letters' weary hopefulness sound especially poignant. Here, he officially releases There's No Love In This War and performs with a full band."
- Chicago Reader
"Effusive praise for "the greatest generation" has grown tiresome, as tales of the grunts fighting the last good war have been retold many times over. That fatigue doesn't really apply to The Gunshy's There's No Love In This War, though. For its fourth album, leader Matt Arbogast created 17 songs based on letters his grandfather wrote his grandmother from the European front lines in World War II. Arbogast's scratchy, Tom Waits-esque tone provides the perfect voice to the weary, sweetly lovesick notes. They're also well complemented by the group's (also Waits-ian) Americana, which varies from hushed ("August 13, 1943") to rollicking ("December 18, 1943"). All of it makes War an affecting, engrossing listen."
- Onion AV Club
"In many ways work on the Gunshy's latest album, "There's No Love In This War" (Latest Flame), started more than six decades ago. The record's lyrics are taken from 17 letters that frontman Matt Arbogast's grandfather, Paul, wrote between 1943 and 1945. Writing on the band's MySpace site (myspace.com/thegunshy), Matt Arbogast notes that the letters, directed to the woman who would become his grandmother, were penned as his grandpa "spent his days preparing for, fighting, recovering from and again fighting a war.
So while songs such as "March 7, 1945," delivered in the singer's weather-beaten croak, might seem rooted in the past, there's a modern relevance that Matt Arbogast hits on when he writes, "I've never fought in a war ... and hope to always be able to say that."
- Chicago Tribune
"Maybe it’s not fair and completely off base but it’s hard for me to listen to “Juliana Park” by Roger Dean and not also hear The Gunshy from Chicago. The Gunshy is one Matt Arborgast and his new record is a concept project based on his grandfather’s letters from WWII. There’s No Love In This War should probably be required reading/listening for George Bush and his cronnies (if they’re too stupid to read the lyrics maybe a private showing of “All’s Quiet On The Western Front” would do). The record comes out October 30 on Latest Flame and within these songs (based on the letters) there is a litany of reasons war, any war, is just plain wrong."
- Songs: Illinois
"Were it not for the Gunshy, I would probably never understand the term “concept album”. To me, any album that is more than just a collection of songs and that strives to be singular in construction, like a symphony with multiple movements, is a concept album. Doesn’t that describe infinite releases, thereby rendering the term inconsequential? Perhaps. Except that the Gunshy have actually crafted the truest form of a concept album. For their fourth album, There’s No Love in This War (available from Latest Flame), they’ve taken a particular conceit (the seventeen letters that Matt Arbogast’s grandfather wrote his grandmother from 1943 to 1945, while knee deep in World War II), to craft a full story with living and breathing characters, that speaks of war and guilt and silence and love. The music is gritty, with a gravel-road country vibe that reflects the violence inherent in the material, but there’s still a soft underbelly, a touch of elegiac horns and elegant strings weaving in and out.
While Arbogast’s voice resembles Tom Waits so much that I wonder if he’s doing an impression or just really likes coffee and cigarettes, what really gives this material resonance is that he’s not just telling someone else’s tale. The letters tell Matt’s life too, his history, and they mirror his own fear and uncertainty, of war and of death, in a way that is sincere without being ironic and serious without being heavy-handed."
- Gaper's Block
"#22 of 2007.
Though the past might be ripe with black and white, newsreel sentimentality and quasi romantic images of the last honest fight, more recent accounts of World War II tell a different tale…one painted in the graphic full-color, hell on scorched earth, strokes it really was. To this, add the penned perspective of Paul Arbogast. An unknown soldier until these last few months, the profusely personal depictions of the European front, with all the untold burdens of sadness, frustration, and the worst kind of homesick blues it inflicted upon those pressed between the war’s iron vice, has recently been unearthed, courtesy of the grandson Paul never knew…though you may know Matt Arbogast as the force behind Chicago’s The Gunshy.
Greased and grizzled, plump with the war itself, the seventeen tracks that make up Matt’s fourth album, There Is No Love In This War (Latest Flame), sprout from an identical number of letters sent from his grandfather back home to his sweetheart Julia, between May 1943 and October 1945. These handwritten interpretations – which sound as if they should have the dust blown off, and kissed with the fine fit of a scratchy record needle – set many a harrowing tales to a more traditional sounding set of songs than Gunshy fans might be used to. “August 13, 1943”/Eddie Was A Good Friend Of Mine” tells of the here today, gone tomorrow friendships Paul encountered while in Europe…this particular one with a man sadly “found with a bullet in his mouth”. It is suicide folk, set to Kara Eubanks’ weeping violin and a quivering songwriter damn near choking on his own words. It’s also one of the most heartbreaking songs to ever grace a Gunshy album.
And so goes Arbogast, sparing little detail, in this, his soldier’s salute to his grandfather. There are furious frustrations on the front; The Gunshy’s “Masters of War”, outlining the deadpan doubt of those “armchair advisors, they pretend to know exactly what’s in store (“September 5th, 1944/The Armchair Advisors”). “September 6th, 1945/’Til My Belly Hangs Over My Belt”, with its’ sparsely paired guitar, violin, and voice, is so reserved, the possibility of such an uncertain daydream ever occurring sounds remote. Most powerfully, there are those life and death moments where Paul found himself on both sides of the rifle’s cross hairs. “July 3, 1944/I Shot a Man” is a panicked romp through the rationale of taking life. Singing, “If the idea alone was enough for him and we’re only here because of them, please may they all soon be dead”, Matt sorts out his grandfather’s reasons and motivations…though Paul still needs help pulling the trigger. “Sometimes it’s better to pretend it’s the first day of deer season and the barrels staring back at us are just their markings on the trees. I won’t feed my family if I let them go, if the animal doesn’t fall to its’ knees.” Sadly, Matt also offers the breathless “June 1, 1944/Instruments of Modern Man”…the day his grandfather felt a “crimson stream run down his cheek” (Paul would die only a few years after the war ended due to complications with shrapnel).
Throughout the album, war’s deplorable conditions on the mind and body are made emphatically clear. But war is perhaps at its’ cruelest when it denies the heart of what it wants most of all. In these particular stories, all Paul really wants is Matt’s grandmother, Julia. Somewhat ironically titled, parts of There Is No Love In This War play like the sharpest writ love letter you’ve ever had the privilege to stumble across. Bursting with warmth, gratitude, and anticipation, poetic lines like “They can’t prescribe this kind of pill in any hospital. When the day is done or it’s just begun and I let my eyes fall shut I see you clearly in the front of me and I’ve never felt their injuries. I’ve never cursed a thousand Nazis” (“June 11, 1944/Pretty in the Red and White Dress”) offer tribute to a real life love that never bowed to the impossible odds of the day. They also serve a more rejuvenating purpose, for fighter and writer a like. For Paul, these letters represent what was at stake in his battles…his life, his gal, and his ring (“December 18th, 1943)”. Is their anything greater worth fighting for? For Matt, these dated words are some of the most profound subject matter the hardened and battle weary songwriter has ever coughed up."
- Baeble Music
"Based upon its premise alone, The Gunshy’s There’s No Love In This War stands as one of the best independent releases of 2007.
Strong words, right?
Before you start typing your letter to the editor, consider some of the specifics. There’s No Love is the fourth effort of Matt Arbogast, a non-native Chicagoan who has been releasing music for seven years. Operating under the radar of consumers and critics alike, Arbogast remains adamant in his do-it-yourself lifestyle, writing, recording and touring without the support of a major label. He received moderate praise for his third release, Souls, in 2006, and released There’s No Love In This War this past Tuesday on Latest Flame Records.
Musically speaking, the album is nothing groundbreaking. Arbogast’s traditional folk arrangements contrast nicely with his growling voice (think Tom Waits’ timbre with Billy Bragg’s swagger). Classic rock fans will hear Bringing it All Back Home, while indie enthusiasts will dismiss the album in favor of In the Aeroplane Over the Sea’s more idiosyncratic elements.
But to judge The Gunshy in terms of genre is to miss the point. There’s No Love shines through its theme: 17 songs based on letters sent from Arbogast’s grandfather, Paul, to his grandmother during World War II. Yes, it’s a concept album.
Generally speaking, concept albums tend to be an aesthetic letdown. In one sense, the paradigm has great potential to heighten the emotive and intellectual force of an album. Yet more often than not, the “concept” that holds the songs together renders the piece too kitschy (see: Pink Floyd’s The Wall) or too ambitious to be accessible (see: Coheed and Cambria).
What distinguishes There’s No Love In This War is the added element of non-fiction. Rather than relying on ambiguous poetry, Arbogast embraces the unadulterated reflections of his grandfather—on family, combat, and coping—and channels these thoughts directly into his compositions. The theme invests the album with an authenticity that escapes other commercially motivated efforts. These lyrics were written for an audience of one, not a demographic.
Take, for example, “September 6, 1945/Til My Belly Hangs Over My Belt.” Throughout the song, Paul Abrogast considers growing old after the conclusion of war stating, “Til my belly hangs over my belt, I’ll relearn the taste/I’ll work for myself, take plenty of days rest to spend with you/Let dollars and cents not measure my wealth.”
The observations may be simple, but the idea has real emotional depth: Paul Abrogast survived WW II, formed a family, had a child (Matt’s father, Mark) and then died at the age of 39 due to a heart attack—an untimely death attributed to shrapnel in his chest.
The larger context of Paul Abrogast’s letters in his life creates a unique lyrical experience for the listener, one free of artistic self-consciousness and self-indulgence. In short, Matt Abrogast has sculpted a real accomplishment—an album that celebrates his lineage, his grandfather’s ideals and his very existence.
So why are you still listening to the new Kanye?"
- Georgetown Voice
"Matt Arbogast's ragged voice is superbly suited to perform There's No Love In This War, an album centered around letters the artist's grandfather wrote to his wife (Arbogast's granny) while serving his time in World War II. Heartbreaking simplicity and honesty abound within the lyrics, and for his own part Arbogast backs it up with a miniature orchestra of brass, strings, banjo, mandolin, harmonica, etc. Consider the album a cross between The Pogues' track "A Pair of Brown Eyes," Lucero's "The War" and early Against Me!"
- Silent Uproar
"The story behind The Gunshy's latest album, There's No Love In This War, is pretty darn cool. Lead singer Matt Arbogast drew inspiration for his songs from 17 letters his late grandfather wrote to his sweetheart during World War II; the relationship comes to life through Matt's Tom Waits-like rasp. The music may not be intended as a political statement, but it does serve as a fitting reminder about the real people affected by armed conflict."
- Centerstage Chicago
"Matt Arbogast has been traveling under the name The Gunshy for the past seven years. It's a suitable name, considering he's somewhat gun shy about performing in large venues where the lyrics rarely connect with listeners.
"I don't like playing the big cities so much. It's a much more personal experience in some of the smaller towns I go play. In bigger cities you're just one of 15 shows going on that night," Arbogast said.
"I've got a good group of towns that I like to go to fairly often. I've found good pockets of people."
One of Arbogast's favorite pockets is Shreveport, where he will play again Monday night at Jackrabbit Lounge. Traveling with a full band, Arbogast will still spend some solo time on stage to make an intimate connection with fans.
"I'm still trying to figure out the best way to connect the audience with the words when I'm playing with a full band. I love having a band on stage, it's a great time for me, but it loses intimacy and the audience is not spending so much time with the words," Arbogast said.
"On stage alone you're throwing out a vulnerability. You want people to pay attention, especially if they are coming to a place where music is happening. But after touring 25 to 27 times, I understand in certain places that a lot of variables come in to play."
In October, The Gunshy released "There's No Love in This War." Many soldiers have e-mailed Arbogast about the connection they've made with the album, however the project also tells a personal story for Arbogast.
The album is based on 17 letters written to Arbogast's grandmother from his grandfather, Paul, while serving in World War II from 1943 to 1945. The two married once Paul returned from the war, however he died at the age of 39 from a heart attack, caused mostly by shrapnel still in his chest from a war injury.
Arbogast never met his grandfather, but says the album has greatly helped his grandmother, who never remarried.
"My grandmother never spoke much of it. I learned that once she tried to burn the letters. She didn't even know they were still around, she thought she'd gotten rid of them. But just a couple years ago my aunt made copies and my dad made copies for all of his kids," Arbogast said.
"I was nervous about making them into an album, it's not like I had my own stories about him. My dad was 13 when he died, so he doesn't really have any stories about him either. I was worried that my family would abolish me, but I was surprised to see my family's reaction. Losing my grandfather was extremely difficult for my grandmother, but having the album helped her put to peace a lot of things she hasn't been able to. It was like giving her medicine for all these little demons she's carried with her all these years."
- Shreveport Times. 2/22/08
""There have been countless concept albums released, and most of them have been absolutely awful. There’s No Love In This War is the story of a soldiers experience in World War II, and is NOT absolutely awful. In fact, it’s quite good. The Gunshy is Matt Arbogast and a handful of other session musicians. He toured around the States playing bars and clubs and gained a reputation as a talented storyteller and unique vocalist. I have to say, his voice makes me think of a jolly Tom Waits. The record is aesthetically very stripped down, usually Arbogast playing acoustic guitar and singing with, at times, a harmonica, a few horns, a few violins, a piano, and a snare drum. All the songs on the album are titled by a date and a reference to what Arbogast sings about in the song. (Example: August 13, 1943 (Eddie Was A Good Friend Of Mine) That song is one of the more powerful on the record. He sings of a memorable night with Eddie, a fellow soldier. It ends quite sadly and gives a look at suicide among soldiers. You can feel the tension and desperation grow as the album nears the end of his soldiers tour. A concept album about WW II is a massive undertaking, but Arbogast handles it with finesse and delivers a strange little gem. This record won’t be for everyone, but those able to appreciate it will be pleased."
- WIDB
"For his fourth album, Gunshy leader Matt Arbogast looked elsewhere for inspiration: the letters his grandfather wrote his grandmother while stationed overseas during World War II. The Chicago group's new album, There's No Love In This War, turns 17 of his letters into song, from quiet laments to rollicking chanties. Arbogast's breathy rasp makes the letters' weary hopefulness sound especially poignant. Here, he officially releases There's No Love In This War and performs with a full band."
- Onion Chicago
"Between the years 1943 to 1945, Paul Arbogast served the U.S. Army in Europe fighting against the Nazis. Throughout his service, Paul wrote a series of 17 letters to a girl he fell in love with a year before he left. More than 60 years later, Paul's passionate letters about love and war live on through the songs of his grandson Matt Arbogast, who is the leader of the Gunshy. On its third album with Latest Flame Records, the Gunshy continues to produce melodic folk-rock tunes, led by Matt's raspy vocals. Although the instrumentals and musical structure is impressive, it is really the lyrics that shine the most on this new album. Each track is inspired by one of Paul's letters to his true love (his future wife) and is titled based on the date of the letter. Thus, There's No Love in this War plays out as a captivating story chronicling the soldier's longing to be with his girl and his experiences in combat during WWII. Matt succeeds in bringing justice and appreciation towards his grandfather's journey and all other love-stricken soldiers."
- The Rockit
""The Gunshy is the alias under which a gentleman named Matt Arbogast creates. I’ve got a thing for grit, and Matt’s got it. He’s got a voice like Tom Waits gargling razorblades, but it works man, it works. It’s also the perfect accompaniment to the powerful tales of woe he’s growling about."
- Timetable
"From 1943 through 1945 one Paul Arbogast was fighting the good fight, in what history simply calls the Second World War. During his time at war Arbogast wrote seventeen letters to the girl he had met, during the year prior to departing for the front, at the Ukranian Club in his Pennsylvania hometown of Allentown PA. Upon his return to the United States after the war Arbogast sought out that girl, Julia, and eventually made her his wife. Paul and Julia's marriage was not a long one, however, as Arbogast died at the age of 39 of a heart attack brought on by complications from shrapnel lodged in his chest from wartime wounds. Yet before his death the pair had a child, Mark, who in turn begat Matt Arbogast, the grandson of Paul and the mind currently disguising itself behind a flying-under-the-radar Chicago band known as The Gunshy. Still with the plot?
There's No Love in this War, released earlier this fall, is an ambitious attempt to set those seventeen wartime posts to music. Arbogast has taken some lyrical freedom, but the essence of each correspondence is intact, and even the song titles are comprised simply of dates and headings from the letters. From the lead-in track "May 14 1943, The Khaki-Whacky Girls," the lyrics read: "Fort McClellan has a mighty haze/ In the early days of May/ Almost makes you forget what it meant/ To awake on a Saturday/ Today I dreamt of Mama's biscuits/ The boys beating up the yard." And so it goes, the album reading like an old diary stumbled upon in a dusty and neglected attic.
Another thing about There's No Love in this War is obvious from the first seconds of play, namely that the gun shy Arbogast sounds uncannily like the esteemed Tom Waits. The fact that his songs are elegiac incarnations of actual wartime letters only solidifies their linkage; Waits is as renowned for his deadpan observatory poetry, as he is for his voice. Arbogast's equally gravelly cords are perfectly suited for the subject matter; it almost feels like Paul Arbogast himself is reciting these lyrics from the cold, damp trenches of Europe.
Musically, There's No Love in this War does an admirable job of complementing the meticulous and ambitous topics in each track. The full Gunshy band consists of several players, and a myriad of instruments: banjo, piano, organ, violin, trumpet, trombone and melodica all freely flow with the standard issue guitar, bass and drums. To boot, the album's style revolves around marching band blues, which only adds to the military theme. The highlight is undoubtedly the title track, a dulcet ditty that unwittingly belies its very subject, "That's on a highway/ On a sunny day/ With no one in your way/ Oh, we'll know this is passed/ When at last on a road/ We travel with no packs/ On our backs/ Stop to get a drink/ Or see a show/ There's no love in this war."
Clearly personal, There's No Love in this War ends up confirming the universality of human emotion - both through the ages and during trying times. The musical letters are like bits of timeless evidence, people resorting to their own comforting notions, no matter how imagined they may be, to get through the slough. It's eventually an uplifting process, and one that has relevancy in these times of war, though sixty years later it is a process that often fosters a sterile sentimentality that can't exist in the present. There's No Love in this War is not making any grand statements, but rather it is just a human face, a snapshot of one life, in a world gone terribly awry. That Paul Arbogast and his letters survived the hell has led to quite the homage, two generations on."
- Lost At Sea
"On his latest CD, There's No Love in This War, the Gunshy refers to letters his grandpa wrote from the battlefront during World War II to a girl back home in Pennsylvania. And with titles like "Jule, I'm Not Ready to Die" and "I Shot a Man," the songs speak for themselves about the harsh reality of wartime. "These songs are his, though they may not do him justice," says the raspy-voiced Gunshy, aka Matt Arbogast. "I've never fought in a war and hope to always be able to say that." Now on his 19th cross-country tour, he swaps stage time tonight in Cleveland with fellow rockers Coffinberry, the Luxury Flats, and Joe Anderl. But if the Gunshy had his way, he'd be more at home in, well, your home — where his musical storytelling can be better appreciated. "It's sad and frustrating that the most popular form of art is so often restricted to those of drinking age," says Arbogast. "I drink plenty, but would prefer to play a living room of 10 people listening to songs than a bar of hundreds too drunk to listen."
- Clevelandscene.com
"The Gunshy ...A voice, A History ...
From 1943 to 1945, Paul Arbogast devoted their days to prepare for a war ...
The music and lyrics that make the album "There's No Love In This War" is based on 17 letters written by Paul to a woman who had known a Ukrainian Club, near his home-Allentown, Pennsylvania ...
This Woman with which married when he returned from the war. Paul Arbogast died in 39 years, of a heart attack ...
Now, Matt Arbogast, his grandson ...
With a voice not far from the Tom Waits ... Deep, dark, rouca, estragada for cigarettes and alcohol (the same things that give depth and flavor to their music), interprets "There's No Love In This War" ...
The Gunshy is "musical equipment" to Matt Arbogast, who created an album "bar-flavored indie-folk" that tells a story well, and touches on points that you want without rodeos, showing the floor of his grandfather ...
The songs are well written, the voice has a unique tone, giving a touch very special, very personal and a taste for music ...
There is a darkness in their performances, with only what they need to be. Rude, free, front, without rodeo ...
Here is an album you can hear those nights in a long ...
Or in a bar, to drink a few glasses ... "
- Recortes do Silencio. (Google's Portuguese translation)
"You can't really sing along to this album; not many melodies will stick with you, but goddamn, the words will. Matt Arbogast culled them from his grandfather's letters home during WWII. "December 18, 1943" comes closest to being hummable, maybe because it's one of the few that express joy (his wedding ring arrived that day; he dreams of saying "I do, I do, I do, until my throat is sore"). Speaking of which, Arbogast's voice sounds like Tom Waits in desperate need of a cough drop. But it fits the ragged and raw emotions expressed."
- 75 Words Or Less
"Like any great art dealing with war, these songs illuminate the horrors, banality and just sheer ridiculousness of such a thing."
- Transmission
"The Gunshy, an indie band started by Pennsylvania native Matt Arbogast, has broken out the big guns and dropped an unassailable work of storytelling genius on the unsuspecting American public with its latest album, There’s No Love In This War.
Matt Arbogast has been actualizing beauty for some time now under the name The Gunshy, currently on Latest Flame Records. Snaking back and forth through the country on constant tours while also making records and friends, The Gunshy continues to dole out profound lyrics over enticing lo-fi music. Often armed with an instrumental entourage (Andrew Bryant, Kara Eubanks, Jeff Grabowski, Ben Grigg, Dan Hanke, Andrew Lanthrum, Adam Penly, Hawley Shoffner and Corey Wills play on There’s No Love In This War), Arbogast is constantly creating and performing music that simmers with quiet aptitude.
With the latest album, he has maneuvered his talents into the realm of storytelling. There’s No Love In This War, The Gunshy’s fourth album, is a compelling interpretation by Arbogast of the 17 letters that his grandfather, Paul Arbogast, penned to a girl named Julia during WWII. Paul survived the war and returned home in 1945, proceeding to marry Julia and start a family with her, but shrapnel that remained lodged in his chest from wounds received at Anzio in 1944 led to his early death at 39.
Although Matt Arbogast never knew his grandfather, he transforms into a brilliant oracle for his grandfather’s deeply human story, singing of a young soldier’s desperate fears, desolate loneliness, unnerving confusion and passionate love and longing for his girl.
“[The album] wasn’t made to sell records,” Arbogast tells American Public Media’s Dick Gordon during Gordon’s talk show. “I wanted to take this on and try to write these songs so that I could try to understand who this man was and try to become closer to him and try to see this whole rounded person as clearly as I could based on these seventeen writings of his I was given. When it’s all said and done when I make this record if I can go back and listen to it and say ‘Okay, I think maybe I did this incredibly important person to me some kind of justice in what I’ve done’.”
Justice, it seems, has indeed been done. Arbogast’s ardent desire to encapsulate this window of his grandfather’s life is evident in the emotion that he pours into his work. His voice, a tender, Tom Waits-esque grumble, cigarette scorched and drenched in cheap whiskey, is positively arresting. He rolls and rambles in a gruff, heartfelt fashion over melodic instrumentals that are consistently beautiful yet fairly unobtrusive so as not to overshadow the brilliant lyrics, the poignant story that is the bursting heart of the album.
The dynamic lyrics behind There’s No Love In This War truly catapult the album from good to extraordinary. From darkly haunting lyrics such as, “The mess sergeant found Eddie with a bullet in his mouth / said, 'I thought we’d have seen more of these by now' / Camp, it has been quiet, though the whispers in our head say / 'Get used to it, soon your closest company, it will be death'," to lyrics that glimmer with strains of happiness such as, "Pick out a pretty dress / pick out a suit for me / for if it’d be my way as soon as the US grass is underneath my feet / I’ll put your hand in mine / take you to your parent’s church / say, 'I do, I do, I do, I do' until my throat is sore,” the emotive quality of the words that Arbogast sings are breathtaking.
Although they are based on letters written over 60 years ago, the sentiments expressed remain incredibly affecting. Arbogast has taken a series of letters and used them to transform a life passed into a flesh-and-blood man, into a moving story that will take shelter in the hearts of listeners everywhere."
- Jenn Kessler, Speakeasy Magazine
"Mr. Gunshy, Matt Arbogast, has the voice that might ensue if Tom Waits swallowed that guy from the Mighty Mighty Bosstones, who in turn had swallowed Louis Armstrong, in sort of an Old-Lady-Who-Swallowed-the-Fly scenario. I get hoarse just listening to it, but the unapologetic bravado of the voice, the gravely dissipated desperation of the lyrics, and the nice little instrumental touches (mandolin, trumpet, violin, etc.) here and there won me over right away. “$4 Pabst” (5) broke my heart a bit, and not just because it remarks on the unreasonable pricing of "cheap" beers when they become trendy. Arbogast has one hell of a soul, especially for a cherub-faced 25-year-old (seriously: listen, then Google him, then watch your own jaw drop, as I just did) from Lancaster, Pennsylvania."
- Asides and B-log
"For the first minutes while listening to The Gunshy, you're going to find yourself shifting in your seat and feeling as if you can't catch your breath. You'll feel thension against your windpipe and agitated by your irreular breathing, until you realize that you are not afflicted, but simply reacting to Matt Arbogast's vocals straining through your speakers. Arbogast's voice is the unlikely centerpiece, sounding like a man who has been smoking a pack a day since he was conceived and is now only able to speak through song while he fights for another breath. Arbogast gasps for air as his rough voice etches into orchestra arrangements and sprouts from between the cement cracks of a barren guitar. You can almost see veins bulging from his neck as he forces out another syllable. Arbogast stands against comparisons to Tom Waits, but a difference in The Gunshy is that Arbogast finds suitable accompaniment in beautiful music that occassionally seep from an organ, trumpet, or violin. A listen through this record and you'll feel like you've been sitting in a smoke-filled room, nursing a glass of whiskey as your friend tells you stories he's been meaning to tell for a long time."
- Punk Planet
"Head Gunner Matt Arbogast gets nailed for aping
Tom Waits so much, but that misses the whole point because he does it so
well. When you do it as long and as well as he does, the purloined style
eventually becomes all your own. And on this album, it finally does."
- Jeffrey Morgan, Metro Times Detroit
"If the vocals on Souls were immediately fetching or aesthetically pleasing, Chicago’s the Gunshy would easily have a larger following than they do. However, the Gunshy does not have this option, making this disc far more rewarding. Resembling a kinder or gentler Tom Waits, Matt Arbogast is in essence a solo performer who enlists accompanying musicians when deemed necessary. It is these accompanying musicians and their instruments that fill Arbogast’s songs with life and essence. While there are a few tunes that are less than inspiring, when Souls is on its game, it touts a number of excellent bursts of restrained yet inspired folky, indie rock. With trumpet, mandolin, flute, and violin, as well as the ubiquitous guitar, drums, and bass—both regular and standup—the finer tracks on Souls include “Last Songs,” Call Me Home,” “Remember These Chords in the Morning,” the rollicking “Stop Singing,” as well as the record’s title track. Whether his vocal style floats your boat or not, it’s high time to take notice of the Gunshy; Souls is an excellent place to start."
- Playback STL
Whiskey toasts and nicotine-stained last gasps in the melancholy smog of American Gothic confessions, darkly lit in the vein of Tom Waits and Shane McGowan.
- Anchorage Press
"The Gunshy's normal Nice Cave-meets-lo-fi indie-rock approach, dark, haunting acoustic music with plenty of emotion and intensity, comes full circle on their latest. Souls, an album that takes it up a notch, going beyond the lo-fi and including strings and horns, ensuring that the poignant pop in the songs isn't overshadowed by the intimacy. Though, as The Gunshy fans have grown to adore, the intimacy is still ever present. The result is a powerful, moving collection of lyrically-smart, somber, yet melodic songs that thrive under the added production values and instrumentation, but still feel as immediate and close as always."
- In Music We Trust
"Sometimes the beauty of sadness cannot be explained,
it can only be treasured. The Gunshys' Soul is not an album for people who
prefer easy songs hand fed to them. It is music meant to be explored, realized,
and appreciated for what it is: brutally sincere. This heartbreaking album
mesmerizes the mind with stirring melodies, gripping lyrical prose, and
rightly placed horns. The horns on "Last Song" are so moving that I have
to admit that each time I hear it I’m tempted to stand, throw my arms in
the air, and spin. And its lyrics could make a clown cry: "Thank you for
making me realize / These songs will be my life / And on the day I die /
There'll be no reason to cry / Or wonder why / For I was made to preach
/ The haunted truths of those who will / Never be satisfied... Grade: A-"
- Tastes Like Chicken
"Matt Arbogast follows up No Man's Blues with an album that may not be as immediately dark as its predecessor but remains as gripping, if not more. And the key to this album, in fact the key to Arbogast himself, comes in the final verse of the record's second song, "I Am Not Who I Used To Be," where the Pennsylvania native sings: "Thank you for making me realize/These songs will be my life/And on the day I die/There'll be no reason to cry/Or Wonder why/For I was made to preach/The haunted truths of those who will/Never be satisfied."
It is that lack of satisfaction that haunts the nicotine-stained narrator in "Last Songs," informs "$4 Pabst" and the mournful celebration found during "Remember These Chords In The Morning." Now, as much as in the past, Arbogast delivers literary narratives that haunt the listener with truth from beginning to end but still manage to offer some scintilla of hope in a ever more hopeless world.
None of this is particularly easy listening, of course, as Gunshy songs demand that the listener be moved and sometimes it becomes difficult for even the most sympathetic among us, such as in "Spanish Girls," where the vocals become a projectile purging of the heart, a moment painful and private enough that it almost feels obscene.
Those who encounter Arbogast for this first time on this recording will be reminded of a more desperate Tom Waits, a less pretentious Nick Cave and even Bruce Springsteen before he cashed in the dirt on his (supposedly) working class palms for air conditioned stages and stadium-sized subtly. But Arbogast is now and has long been the kind of song making hero who seems incapable of doing anything less than living the songs he writes and Souls is just one more step toward making us realize that.
The Gunshy will play two shows on Friday, Oct. 28 — the first is an all-ages performance at Headway Skate Park, 200 N. Osage with The Hands of Fallen Brethren, Alphabet City, Long Division and Bat Tooth at 7 p.m. The latter will occur at The Anchor at 10 p.m., 1108 E. Douglas."
- F5 Wichita
"A Pennsylvania native, Matt Arbogast chokes out different cautionary tales of lament, love, and depression as if he were channeling Tom Waits himself. Gunshy's latest record 'Souls' is read like a diary and heard like a sermon through upbeat snare rhythms and organ blasts like a shiny ray of hope at the end of a long tunnel.
The gift of storytelling is handed down from generation to generation and
it's obvious Arbogast was blessed with this extraordinary gift as he struggles
through his cough-like vocals simple to say something to the listener. Sometimes
reminiscent to the likes of Blake Swartzenbach (Jawbreaker, Jets to Brazil),
I imagine Arbogast's lyrics are handcrafted with paper and pen or maybe
even on a typewriter in the darkness of a damp room which would easily match
his gloomy, yet still hopeful, thoughts.
Gritty metaphors like "she's the nicotine I don't need" ('My Nicotine, My Whiskey") defines Souls and is the reason the album found it's way to a nice cozy spot on my record shelf. "
- Follow The Daiz
"The latest album from The Gunshy stays on the same course that the previous album did: deadly, darker tunes that see the bottle or glass not half full but shattered on the barroom floor. "I Am Not Who I Used to Be" has singer/jack-of-all-trades Matt Arbogast singing the title in a way that makes Tom Waits sound cheerful. If you're listening to it, you expect the skies to grow dark and perhaps a dense fog to settle in. But Arbogast brings it to a hymnal-like conclusion with fabulous results. Fans of Buck 65 and The National would also be wise to seek this album out, especially with "Last Songs" that brings to mind The National's "Mr. November" with a touch of horns. The Gunshy revisit this somewhat later on with the rowdy yet swaying "Stop Singing". "My Nicotine, My Whiskey" is a simpler folk tune that flows along nicely in a singer-songwriter format while "Call Me Home" is a militaristic romp that sounds a bit like The Pogues circa If I Should Fall From Grace With God. The Gunshy aren't shy about giving you a different outlook judging by the slower, train-rolling "Remember These Chords in the Morning" with a mournful dirge cello underneath the mix. After a punchy title track, Arbogast ends it all with "Let There Be No Mounrful Tears", a tune that sounds like Arbogast's last will and testament. Rating: 8 of 10"
- Pop Matters
"Souls is the second full-length record from The Gunshy and is scheduled for release this December on Latest Flame Records. Musician Matt Arbogast is The Gunshy, as Souls seems to demonstrate so clearly. This record is, in many ways, the musical testament to a life fumbling towards contentedness. This is evident in the simplicity and lyrical organicism of a collection of songs that, above all, displays a remarkable honesty.
With Souls, the sense of Arbogast’s self-effacing honesty is manifested in each of the album’s ten confessional tracks. They range in style and composition, but each constitutes a moment inside the consciousness of its creator. One of the record’s most memorable songs, “Last Songs” is about life on the road, solitude, and the constant choice between settling down and pursuing a rootless existence for the sake of a driving passion. Addressed to some unnamed mistress, a casualty of attempted love on the road, “Last Songs” concludes, “Thank you for making me realize, these songs will be my life/ And on the day I die there’ll be no reason to cry or wonder why/ For I was made to preach the haunted truths of those who will never be satisfied.”
Souls is made of simple lyrics like these, which somehow secure a niche in the precarious balance between over and understatement. It seems that Arbogast’s delivery is the crucial factor in maintaining this balance. For instance, in “Last Songs,” a solid drum presence and lead guitar part (reminiscent of a surf rock electric lead) are sufficiently employed to build up melodic tensions at par with those of the lyrics, but don’t over-dramatize them. Even the entrance of an affirmative trumpet does not taint the balance. If the musical accompaniment to such words as these was at any point too much or the least bit pretentious, it would greatly diminish the at times gut-wrenching honesty, which inhabits each musical moment of consciousness.
Perhaps the most striking audible element of The Gunshy’s music is Arbogast’s distinct voice. His gruff, yet elegant vocals constantly reside somewhere between exasperation and repose. The most obvious reference for comparison is Tom Waits, however, a direct parallel feels like a cop-out. Each artist is very different; Arbogast’s voice is far less deep and carries a faint air of desperation that Waits never approaches. His unique voice becomes part of the signature of this album. Its visceral sincerity keeps thoughts of contrivance far at bay, where such a unique voice may otherwise be suspect.
In all, Souls is a beautifully written and recorded collection of songs
offered with a startling degree of honesty. Gradually, the unassuming ten-track
confessional disarms anyone who will listen with an amount of sincerity
equal to the album’s, baring to them the soul of its professor. Rating"
5 out of 5."
- SBI (University of Buffalo)
"When you hear about a singer with nicotine-stained vocals, you probably think of someone who sings with a "gravel-coated" voice -- someone like Tom Waits, maybe. With Matt Arbogast, however, "nicotine-stained" is an understatement: his singing voice sounds truly damaged, to the point where you'll wonder whether this version of rock 'n' roll authenticity is something to truly strive for. It's kind of like Mohammed Ali's brain damage, only without the world championships and mega-millions. Fortunately, Souls doesn't rely entirely on Arbogast's voice. On previous Gunshy albums, he did little more than whisper over a single strummed guitar; Souls steps forward with bigger arrangements.
The upshot of this is that there are more musical elements here to shoulder your attention. Ben Grigg's trumpet is integral to the uptempo "Last Songs", "Remember These Chords In The Morning" and the title track's stomp. "Call Me Home"'s bleak look back on a spent life benefits from the violin, and Arbogast's own harmonica adds the perfect touch to "$4 Pabst"'s tender remembrance of lost love. Even opener "I Am Not Who I Used To Be", in which he croaks lyrics like "I can spend a night along / Not thinking of who I would leave / If the bottle got the best of me" over a single strummed guitar, is eventually fleshed out with organ, and demonstrates a clearly delineated purpose rather than devolving into another formless plea for pity.
The downside, of course, is that you still have to endure Arbogast's vocals to get any clear idea about the songs. He doesn't entirely avoid the one guy/one guitar standard: songs like "Spanish Girls" and closer "Let There Be No Mournful Tears" sit awkwardly alongside the album's more expansive arrangements. Arbogast's voice is indistinct and practically tuneless, and although songwriting easily outstrips his singing ability, his voice can still be rather distracting. Fortunately, these songs are strong enough to stand on their own; Arbogast's lyrics are still primarily depressing literary descriptions of a lonely life, but they don't drag the songs down into a pit of despair. That's an important point, too: so many talented songwriters pen misanthropic songs about topics close to their hearts, but their songs lean inward with such weight that it's impossible to escape their depravity. Souls is different. While its songs aren't necessarily hopeful, they offer enough compelling musical concepts to diffuse their lack of gravity. All the damaged vocal chords in the world can't sink an album this strong."
- Splendid
"On 'No Man's Blues' The Gunshy offers up some of the most beautifully bleak and starkest of stark tunes you could ever hope to hear in this life or any other. Matt Arbogast (who essentially is the Gunshy) has found a way to dip his pen into the most hurt and hollow places of the human soul and has emerged with words that spill forth those deepest pains in a way that's not only realistic, it's also palpable. Think Nebraska-era Springsteen without the distant murmur of packed arenas in the past and on the horizon, think a more poignant Tom Waits, think Bob Dylan with boxing gloves strapped tight across his fists, think of lapsing into a depressive episode in the middle of an Irish jig.
These are serious songs, though, filled with hopes crushed in the cracks of the sidewalks of Lancaster, Pa., of futures washed away with pills doled out by doctors and nurses when protagonists were far too young to begin numbing themselves from the world around them, these are songs, after all, about those who've died before they've begun to live, not because they choose to but because they exist in a world that wouldn't have it any other way. It's grim, sure, but it's sad and beautiful and if tracks such as 'Reason To Retreat,' 'I Will Die Alone' and 'Your Favorite Dylan Song' don't convince you, then you need only try again, for Matt Arbogast and No Man's Blues are the real deal.
A great and important record.
The Gunshy plays the Eagles Lodge on Sunday, Nov. 7 with William Elliott Whitmore, Troubled Hubble and Ricky Fitts."
- F5 Wichita
"The Gunshy main man Matt Arbogast obviously takes Tom Waits as some kind of surrogate father figure, because there is minimal ground between their vocal stylings. However, much is to be said for Arbogast’s relentless explorations of disappointment. He counters life’s lousily dealt hand with an extended middle finger, his weathered guitar and a sharp back-up band. When the songs on No Man’s Blues aren’t just him, they’re a big, dramatic production awash with descending chords and loads of cymbals. Arbogast discusses his impending death on nearly every song, though. Someone talk this guy back off the ledge, he’s got a lot to offer."
- Rockpile
"With a voice that sounds like too many drinks and too many long highways,
Matt Arbogast takes the listener on a journey. The songs move from acoustic
singer songwritten stories to a full on band rock extravaganza. Dynamic and
alive. The music moves somewhere between indie rock and punked out
Americana, but it¹s the voice that brings this record home. Almost falling
like Tom Waits, but the sound and style seems a lot closer to Eric Bachmann
(Crooked Fingers) or even, at times, Mike Ness. There¹s a rawness to these
songs that make you feel real, and they make you feel honestly."
- Big Takeover
"Some people are just too hard on raw vocalists. I think a rough voice can often bring more power into the music. Matt Arbogast, otherwise known as The Gunshy, is an excellent example of this. His vocals have a raspy Tom Waits quality to them. Both share an admiration for alcohol, pianos, and regret, but that's about as far as the comparison goes.
Arbogast does a great job of staying one step ahead of the listener. No Man's Blues rarely slips and is full of creative energy. The songs range from drunken rockers ('Reason To Retreat') to intimate ballads ('I Will Die Alone'). The use of violin, cello, flute, harmonica, and banjo throughout the record truly add to the mix. Arbogast is a fine lyricist and his chops on guitar aren't bad either. My favorite track is the utterly painful 'Seven Weeks.' Then again, I'm a sucker for sad songs. This is definitely a keeper."
- Unfinished
"While some of his material and live dates involve the assistance of a full band, The Gunshy is singer-songwriter Matt Arbogast's baby. If ever there was a vocalist who sounded similar to Tom Waits, it's Arbogast, who rasps, warbles and howls at the moon with reckless abandon. But make no mistake - Arbogast is his own man. His songs wield tattered pipes over a more indie pop and synthetic sounding musical material than Waits has usually traversed throughout his career.
When Arbogast sings an emotive ballad, such as 'Breakin' Some Bad Habits,' it usually isn't with the consciously over-the-top demeanor that Waits adopts (never letting you know just how much of his tongue is planted firmly in his cheek). Even when Arbogast inhabits dystopian terrain, as on 'I Will Die Alone,' there is a poise-filled resignation that helps to make his material's depressive landscape seem genuine and hard won instead the usual songwriter hyperbole. He is also able to angrily rock out, on songs such as 'Congratulations': 'I don't blame these haunted nights on you. No, I knew them before you brought some hope to broken bones and were my favorite s----y metaphor.'
Arbogast has the angst thing down in a way that thousands of mascara-wearing wannabe Goth kids and crying-in-their-beer cowboys wish they could approach. That said, I like him best on 'Dead End,' where he's grooving to a faux eighties pop hook, singing about asking a friend to return his ex-girlfriend's books for him. No Man's Blues mixes old and new in a bittersweet musical metaphor for the post-millennial multiplicity of cultural perspectives. In other words, Arbogast's finding many new ways of singing about old truths. I, for one, am excited to hear where he's headed next."
- Great Hoboes of New York
"The second full-length release from Pennsylvania tunesmith Matt Arbogast is a gripping album of despair, lost love, and squandered opportunities. Once a solo project, Arbogast has added a few friends to The Gunshy to flush out his sound on this disc. The most distinctive thing about this album is the phenomenal vocals. Arbogast has a voice so gritty that he makes Tom Waits sound like a castrato. When he sings of his modest grave, haunted nights, and darkest dreams, his voice captures that desolate place in the heart. When the band kicks in to his acoustic guitar melodies, there is a Celtic vibe to the music. Hopefully, Arbogast’s life isn’t as dark as his music would lead us to believe. With a voice as phenomenal as his, the future should be bright indeed."
- Skratch Magazine
"I’ve come to the general conclusion that there are two schools of songwriters – one fits into a category with Jeff Buckley and Rufus Wainwright – the songwriters whose voices soar above sweeping guitar and piano. The other school was professored by the likes of Tom Waits, Bob Dylan, Steve Earle and a pack of Marlboro Reds. The Gunshy’s Matt Arbogast has his PHD from the second school. No Man’s Blues is extremely solid from beginning to end, which is an accomplishment for any songwriter especially in days where the genre is dominated by pop hit machines like Dashboard Confessional. If you want to hear something real go no farther than 'Reason to Retreat'. I am glad to see that someone is still making honest/good music – file under SUPER TIGHT."
- Bettawreckonize
"This album plays like a catharsis, a purging of pent-up anger, love, self-loathing and fear. On 'No Man's Blues', Arbogast is backed by a melange of musicians. The acoustic guitars, cello, violin, and occasional harmonica paired with Arbogast's gravelly voice lend to the exceptionally mournful, poignant sound...this is a great album."
- Punk Planet
"It’s no coincidence that No Man’s Blues opens on raspy voiced singer/songwriter Matt Arbogast, who croons an electro-folk ballad that continues to focus listeners' attention long after the rhythm section fuses together an accompaniment of drums, bass and keyboard.
Abrogast’s soothing, everyman guitar and his I-smoked-two-packs-a-day-and-don’t-give-a-fuck vocals
clamp down with an unforgivingly raw allure. His narrative storytelling plays like the guilty pleasure
of a long departed pulp novel, a jukebox sympathy that one would picture unfolding from the speakers of a sparse and seedy Irish pub. Not the trendy sort,
where hipsters flirt and drink Guiness pints and listen to Flogging Molly, The Tossers and Dropkick Murphys, but one that caters to miners and mill
workers and serves cheap bourbon. Reminiscent of latter day Dylan, if only Dylan could have lost his voice with such conviction."
–Barry Engelhardt. Copper Press
"As Jeff Tweedy is basically Wilco, Matt Arbogast is basically The Gunshy. Recording this album in two stints recently, The Gunshy sound like the distant relative of Tom Waits as Arbogast's fragile, whiskey stained pipes are delectable on the slow 'Reason To Retreat'. It's a perfect start that is part Celtic sway and driving power pop as The Gunshy ride a never-ending crescendo. He later perfects this on the rambling rock-tinted
'Your Favorite Dylan Song'. Arbogast isn't the happy-go-lucky sort on the sparse folk of 'I Will Die Alone' which could make a grown man cry. 'I know I will die alone,' he sings as a guitar is heard in the distance. It's this depressingly yet gorgeous style that makes The Gunshy so damn good! 'Congratulations' doesn't reinvent the wheel but has Arbogast spewing a tad more venom at his target. 'Dead Ends' has more of an up-tempo roots rock base. The landmark moment comes during an angry 'Seven Weeks' that hits a nerve. 'I'm fuckin' up my life for rock and roll,' he sings on the captivating effort. The Gunshy come off as if they have a gun nearby and are penning letters before they do something drastic, including on the lovable 'Breakin' Some Bad Habits' featuring Michelle Moyer on cello. Going down such a dark path is not recommended, but The Gunshy has done a yeoman's job walking it and should reap the rewards from it."
— Jason MacNeil. Pop Matters
"'These cigarettes may kill me, but for now they're keeping me alive,' sings Matt Arbogast, aka The Gunshy, whose 'Your Favorite Dylan Song' gives Crooked Fingers a run for the money in the dourness department. But then it kicks into overdrive and all you can do is raise your arms in the air, praying for death or heroin."
- Unremitting Failure
"Forget the layers of solid sonic foundations that make up The Gunshy’s overall dark sound; forget the power behind the build-ups and the weightlessness felt during the breakdowns – what is most striking about The Gunshy is Matt Arbogast’s tortured voice. Arbogast belts breathy phrases about hurting the people he holds closest."
- Pulse Weekly
"I'm not sure if Matt Arbogast has weathered everything that life could possibly throw at him, but that's certainly the impression one gets from his howling voice. Reminiscent of Tom Waits, Arbogast's (who records as The Gunshy along with numerous friends and cohorts) voice is drunken and swaggering, always sounding as if his vocal chords are being torn to shreds as he sings his confessional lyrics. On 'Your Favorite Dylan Song', the slowburning anthem that serves as the climax of his latest album, No Man's Blues, Arbogast's throaty cries are framed within surging drums and wails of guitar feedback, which lend lyrics such as '...these cigarettes may kill me/But for now they're keeping me alive' additional import.
- Opus
"The Gunshy is another name for Pennsylvania based singer-songwriter Matt Arbogast, and whoever he manages to round up to play drums and stuff. "Your Favorite Dylan Song" is what Tom Waits might sound like if he had Dylans penchants for long, guitar driven epics. Nicotine scorched vocals, raw, intense guitar work, and a stripped down, bare bones approach to the word epic that makes every note, every phrase, burn with tension, with power."
- Teaching the Indie Kids to Dance Again
"This record is brilliant. Take everything you love (or hate) about Tom
Waits and make it raw. Matt Arbogast, the creative singer/songwriter, is
the man behind The Gunshy. It's difficult to review something that is someone
else's feelings, as as you listen to this record you know exactly how he
felt the moment he was writing the lyrics. It's painfully honest and truthful.
When he whispers 'I'm fucking up my life for rock and roll' you can't help
but know exactly what he means. Playing as a band or just by himself, The
Gunshy manages to capture your utmost attention, turn you upside down and
spit you out and you're not the same afterwards."
- What's Up Bra?
"Matt Arbogast (Gunshy vocalist) seems to have smoked a lot of cigarettes. The result of his smoking has forged some sort of symbiotic relationship between his vocals and instruments, leaving them scuffed up, scratched, and pretty raw. If you could make a graphical representation of The Gunshy's music, it would just be a large amount of ash and soot, with maybe a few guitar strings coiled up around it. The music on No Man's Blues is much like this, choking itself in deep bluesy twangs and dusty drum spatters.
"He said, 'I'm sure I will be forgotten/These days have played me like a
fool," are the opening lyrics to No Man's Blues, and sets the general tone
for the album. Although Arbogast might have a bleak outlook on life, his
music is one thing that turned out well. Often his music is painfully soulful,
catching the listener in his wails of supposed torment. In my favorite song
"Seven Weeks" it seems that all he does is yell his chalky voice until it
blows out, but then he starts back up again in the next song. Often his
music is depressing, it is hard for it to not rub off a little. I myself
felt a little down after listening to 'I Will Die Alone,' hearing Matt Arbogast
proclaiming over and over, 'Where hollow stairs by former flairs/won't remind
me of what I already know/I will die alone.' It's no surprise that The Gunshy
has shared the same ticket as fellow sad-sacks Elliot Smith or Songs:Ohia."
- Indie Workshop
"I'm a little torn because I like Tom Waits...a lot. And Matt Arbogast's hobo-hacked voice sounds like Tom Waits...a lot. So factoring in imitation and flattery and the like, let's explore what separates The Gunshy from our favorite curmudgeon. The arrangements are definitely not Wait's style. Instead of saloon rags and carnival tents, there are expanses of furious and alternately sparse guitar scrubbing joined by violin pregnancies that swell to the point of bursting. There's the acoustic, naked rage of "Seven Weeks," which leaves both singer and listener vulnerable. "Stories" may not reveal its nature outright, but beneath the e-bow and modern piano, it's a fast moving sea-chanty. Many moods and styles are covered as Arbogast establishes his musical proclivity, using top-notch musicians to this end.
So it's on to content. Mostly self-depreciating themes soaked in gruff tenderness. "Dead Ends" describes his best-case scenario, "You wouldn't mind the broken bed/or my left arm wrapped around you/you'd watch me with one eye as you read "Leaves Of Grass" again." No cliches, the personal lyrics paint an identifiable picture vague enough to apply to yourself. And well-crafted tales have any agenda laid out plain. Keeping in mind that I find self-reproach a noble and admirable life-path, and find sentiments like "I Will Die Alone" somehow charming, I give The Gunshy four and a half out of a fifth of Jack Daniels, but leave the bottle. Like Waits fronting Crime And The City Solution. Arbogast's own summation? 'It would be fine to break the record/leave the show/It makes more sense than what I've come to know/a little self-marketed in sorrow.'"
- Hybrid Magazine
"With a voice not unlike that of Tom Waits, deep, dark, and throaty, marred by cigarettes and alcohol, the same things that give it its depth and flavor, comes Milwaukee, Wisconsin's The Gunshy. The Gunshy is the musical outfit for one Matt Arbogast, who, along with a cast of friends, has created a well-worn, bar-flavored indie-folk record that tells a story well, and conveys its principal point without beating around the bush. The songs are well written, the voice an acquired taste (but the thing that really takes the songs from mediocre to powerful), and the performances dark, just the way they need to be. Here is a record you can imagine playing late at night, as you try to sober up, or at a bar while you get loaded. It's got its time and place, but when the time and place are right, its moody, indie-cool branded folk-rock flavor hits the spot."
- In Music We Trust
"The Gunshy is a serious-minded, embearded young singer-songwriter fellow named Matt Arbogast. The first and most obvious thing to remark on is his vocals, which sit squarely at the halfway point between the gravel of Tom Waits and the rasp of Eric Bachmann (Crooked Fingers). I'm not sure if this relatively young guy is singing like a grizzled old man because it's his natural voice or because it's an affectation, but there's a lot of conviction when he bellows out a line like "I'm f***ing up my life for rock and roll!" The album alternates between electric rockers and quieter acoustic numbers, recorded with an empty-room ambience. The songwriting mines the same gritty, dark-yet-hopeful vein as his vocal forebears; it seems unaffected and the lyrics are very direct, so even though the stylized vocals give me some uncertainty, I think this is some pretty honest expression going on here. This is a good quality release if you're into this sort of thing."
- Copacetic Zine
"This is a tough one to review. Have you ever been to a concert and seen an opening band hit you on the head with desperate songs about how their life is full of shit, terrible, and hopeless? One certainly comes to mind for me. I saw Swearing at Motorists live in Austin, TX once. This show consisted of the drummer from another band and a lone singer/electric guitarist. Most of the songs were spoken lyrics with occasional short thrashes of guitar and anger as the themes became more desperate and hopeless. Only the amp was broken, and every time he tried to play his guitar loudly, the sound would drop out and fizzle, leaving him more and more frustrated. It was a bright sunny day and everybody was outside drinking at the bar, so seeing somebody who fit every DSM-IV criteria for major depressive disorder (and then some) undergo such technical humiliation wasn’t exactly my idea of a good time.
If The Gunshy has anything working against them, it probably falls into a similar category. What we have is a very talented songwriter named Matt Arbogast, who seems like his original style of writing was a dark confessional song-structure, backed mostly by some timid acoustic guitar strumming. In fact, hearing a song like “Seven Weeks” live during an opening act performance conjures up the potential for another Swearing at Motorists nightmare to me. Fragile words about a doomed relationship, alcoholism, and cheery lines like “I’m fucking up my life for songs I know nobody would like…” should give you the picture.
But wait, there is hope! No Man’s Blues represents a crucial change in direction for The Gunshy. Arbogast has recruited a bunch of band members to help him out in spots so that over half of the songs here really shine in a new light. The hopeless acoustic ballad isn’t necessarily a lost cause in the world of music, but for each success like Big Star’s “Holocaust,” there are at least a few dozen that don’t quite work out. Then again, there are a few dozen Cure albums with a full band and similar themes that do work. What does that tell you?
In my opinion, depressing songs sound best in the context of heavily dynamic music. Just listen to “Your Favorite Dylan Song” here on No Man’s Blues. It uses a full on indie rock band approach to deliver lines like “These cigarettes may kill me but for now they’re keeping me alive” in a way where you can feel the singer’s desperation, but the music is crucial in building that bridge with the audience. Musically stripped down confessional despair has to be used sparingly (or with the godlike wit of a Stephen Merritt) to be successful, but The Gunshy’s five full band songs here are really impressive. So impressive in fact, that a sparse track like “Mistaken” begins to reveal it’s true beauty in the new context. My advice to The Gunshy is to keep working in the full band direction and to save some of the confessional skills of Arbogast as the ace in their hole. My advice to you is to check out No Man’s Blues if you get a chance, because a couple songs here are too good to pass up.
- Left Off the Dial
"I met Matt Arbogast, aka The Gunshy, during the summer of ’01 when he was getting over a broken arm and finishing up his first record, To Remember/To Forget. I stayed at his house in Lancaster, PA and he played me some rough demos that sounded right at home with my Tom Waits collection. We stayed in touch and saw each other a few more times on tour, his arm eventually healed, and a good deal of time later – just when I had almost forgotten about The Gunshy – he has returned with No Man’s Blues to thoroughly impress me.
Though I liked To Remember/To Forget, it is here that Matt finally nails the Waitsian ability to meld smoky aesthetics and late night / early morning drunken serenades. The debut seemed too busy trying to capture the essence instead of the actual songs, but all 10 tracks here accomplish both. His husky voice (which sounds nothing like his speaking voice) conveys emotions without sacrificing tune-ality, painting within the same lines as The Heart of Saturday Night and reeking of trauma and drama. As I listen to No Man’s Blues, I can’t help but smile at the memory of the first planting of The Gunshy’s seed three years ago.
Great job, Matt. You sound fabulous and I hope to see you soon."
- Transform Online
"From his moniker alone, it's clear that The Gunshy's Matt Arbogast is pretense-phobic.
His warts and blemishes aren't merely part of his music- these shortcomings,
failed relationships and social anxieties form the centerpiece of his debut,
To Remember To Forget. The Gunshy will undoubtedly be compared to Bright
Eyes, not only because of the band line-up that revolves around its mastermind,
but because of the gory affect imposed on both frontmen's voices. Whether
he's whispering or singing with a sick-sounding croak, Arbogast never stops
warbling. Recorded on an eight-track in Arbogast's hometown of Lancaster,
Pennsylvania with a few guest musicians, Forget is packed with sparse, acoustic
sadness. Still, there are occasional bright spots in the bleak tapestry:
the keyboard in 'To Forget' helps sweeten the despondency found in lines
like, 'I'm living less with every breath.' The penultimate track, 'Always
Right,' is the album's shining moment. It sports a catchy melody, a guitar
line that chimes with life and lyrics that bespeak resolution, not helplessness.
That it comes so late into the album makes its poignancy resounding: it
shows that, like the best downtrodden music, 'To Remember/To Forget' has
the power to get over itself and ultimately sound uplifting. Essential."
- CMJ
"Using the moniker The Gunshy, Lancaster, PA's Matt Arbogast, with the help
of his acoustic guitar and husky voice, delivers pensive, heart-on-sleeve
ramblings, intimate love songs, and timid insights into life from the eyes
of a singer-songwriter. Preferring the subtle to the intrusive, To Remember/To
Forget doesn't cry on your shoulder or make you feel down. Instead, it speaks
its mind without pushing you away, playing to your mood. Coming across dark
and depressed when you need it, and able to conjure up the feelings to put
you to bed after a memorable evening, the album holds strong throughout
and gives you plenty of ammunition to come back to."
- In Music We Trust
"The Gunshy are a trio of young men, headed by guitarist/vocalist Matt Arbogast,
intent on wearing their proverbial hearts on their sleeves while avoiding
any ties to the dreaded 'e' word. Their music is a fine testament to honest
lyricism and simple songwriting. Matt Arbogast's lyrics come from the experience
of someone twice his age, ('I know half of them made little sense, But nothing's
changed I still forget what I think you might want to hear next, I've come
to accept I'm living less with every breath.') and his voice takes on this
personality with his gravelly out of breath delivery. In combination with
his acoustic strumming and his bandmates subtle drums and keyboards, you'll
start to believe that you're hearing some youthful proteges of Tom Waits
or Low. Arbogast has offered an invitation for you to come into his little
world and meet these strange and simple people that have made an undeniable
impression on him and perhaps The Gunshy will leave you with a better understanding
of those that you take for granted. If nothing else, remember The Gunshy's
name, because they're only going to get better with age."
- Bettawreckonize
"Like a flitting memory just out of grasp the cd 'To Remember/To Forget'
draws your mind on a low-fi, melancholy trip of subtle thoughts and barely
there melodies. It teases your mind with ghostly tunes and lyrics hinting
at so much more.
Led by the young singer and songwriter Matt Arbogast, from Lancaster, PA.
The Gunshy is a sometimes band, sometimes solo act. This album is performed
by a trio of boys playing a multitude of instruments varying per track.
Throughout the disc, guitars, cellos, drums, keyboards and bass can be heard,
but barely. Gently plucked strings and pretty chords are heard occasionally
but there are moments where there are no instruments at all. Just the monotone,
murmurings of raspy voiced Matt. It's different than anything else out there
just by it's sheer scarcity of anything typical. It is strange to hear music
that sounds 'silent', almost creepy. So subtle at times it's non-existent,
but the knowledge that something is there and affecting is undeniable.
So much emotion is heard with such little variation and inflection it is
unsettling, but the impact of the music and profundity of the lyrics is
clearly felt. Singing softly, it sounds like Matt's whispering ghostly,
half heard messages into your ear. He has an aged voice, sounding as though
he's already lived lifetimes beyond his years and is drawling out the tedious
experiences of past regrets purely for the benefit of the listener, though
it must pain him.
Sometimes trippy, and sometimes disturbing (check out the long, bizarre
hidden track for example) all these eerie, desolate songs may rouse a big
question: where's the pep? A lighthearted journey of fanciful memories cannot
be found here, but the teasing tastes of pleasantries can be, on the albums
most standout tracks ('The Ghost of an Alibi' and 'Always There'). Enhanced
greatly by a fuller sound, the instruments make their presence known and
are welcome comforts to hear. Even though they're still played in a subtle
fashion, it feels like deafening relief after such desolate, dreary soundscapes.
If you enjoy simple stripped down acts such as Tom Waits, Low, or Onelinedrawing,
and somber nights of tears and dim light are what you're looking for, than
this album is for you. Declared an 'essential' artist by CMJ, it's possible
that soon The Gunshy's whisperings will be reminding everyone to forget."
- Wake Zine
"I came upon the whisky soaked droll of The Gunshy by random chance. Vocally
I invision Tom Waits in the late 60's in the basement pubs of Hamburg, Germany
singing to the lonesome individuals about the melancholy of past breakups
and future loss. Upon each listen I find The Gunshy the narrator for much
of my own loneliness and heartache. Each song brings another honest story
of nostalgic loss, 'We have the ones the most who aren't afraid to show
those traits we spend our whole lives trying to hide.'"
- Slug Magazine
"Matt Arbogast is the head of this project, which can range from just him,
to a full band, much like Wolf Colonel. Unlike Wolf Colonel though, this
is the kind of stuff you turn off the lights, light a couple of candles
and get drunk on wine by yourself to. His voice barely ever creaks past
a whisper and always seems on the verge of breaking into tears. The minimalist
approach of acoustic guitars quietly accompanied on occasion by drums, cello,
etc. does a lot for the sound. All in all, not a bad bit of work, and certainly
not something I would mind seeing live...unfortunately The Gunshy aren't
local. I'll just have to wait to see if they tour."
- Geek America
"The Gunshy's Matt Arbogast's voice has that perfect breathy quality that
just seems to evoke sincerity and compassion. It's as if he's singing to
you, almost whispering his vocals in a hushed tone that speaks of deseration
and melancholy...Take a heavy dose of Bright Eyes' Conor Oberst (without
the warbly vocals), add in a dash of Nick Drake, and stir in Will Oldham,
and you have concocted The Gunshy. The sincerity is undeniable, and the
soft acoustic guitar and conspirational tone is a nice approach...The Gunshy
have created a very passionate debut album that's perfect for early morning
or late night listening."
- Delusions of Adequacy
"Though Matt Arbogast, a recent transplant from Lancaster, Pennsylvania, often
enough enlists friends' help to perform and record as The Gunshy, he's
essentially a solo artist hiding under a band name like a rattlesnake in the
bushes. His brutally sad songs traipse between Americana and emo, with weird
little keyboard and guitar fills jammed in at odd angles and drumbeats perfectly
emphasizing his raw vocal lines. It's a bit like Springsteen as described by
Dante. With two albums and an EP behind him, Arbogast will release a new
full-length, Souls, on Latest Flame in the fall."
- Chicago Reader, August 26 2005
"Matt Arbogast's whiskey-and-cigarette voice is sure to earn The Gunshy more than a few comparisons to Tom Waits, but while Waits baths his cantankerous hard-luck stories in kitchen-sink aesthetics,
Arbogast applies wobbly bar-room waltzes to a more rock-infused sonic canvas. Not unlike Crooked Fingers, The Gunshy's recent 'No Man's Blues' sounds like the work of a reformed punk screamer looking for a less ball-busting way to get his point across."
- The Onion, May 19-25 2005
"Matt Arbogast, also known as indie singer/songwriter The Gunshy (pictured), isn't going to pull away from the subjects that move him most.
His vocal work for his forthcoming album, "Souls," was inspired by the mix of freedom and loneliness he finds on the road.
Though he recently moved to Chicago from Lancaster, Pa., to find a bigger stage for his music, he has discovered that his life as an indie singer-songwriter may be destined to be a lonely one.
"It might be just self-inflicted isolation," he said. "I grew up in Lancaster, Pa., and lived there pretty much alone. It was that isolation that drove me to what I'm doing. Even here (in Chicago), it's just maybe a certain breed of people that like to spend their time in solitude and quiet and thinking way too much and making music."
For the past few years, he has used a series of minitours to connect with audiences around the country. Shreveport will be the third stop on an 11-day, 11-city tour through the South.
"I'm finding out that it's been really tiring, but it's been good," he said. "There is a lot of figuring out how to have as normal a life as possible when you're on the road all the time. ... It's less of a vacation, and it's not like we're glamorized and finding chicks and going crazy."
He will be joined by singer-songerwriter Andrew Bryant from the Oxford, Miss., music scene. "Souls" will be released Dec. 6 by Latest Flame Records."
- Shreveport Times
"Matt Arbogast's The Gunshy takes the mellowest of Tom Waits and the sincerest of Elliott Smith and
sows them into a curtain of sorrow, catharsis and ultimately, grace. His graveled voice mathes the frantic strumming of an acoustic guitar
with unbelievable smoothness. The texture of Arbogast's folk/rock songwriting is something to be desired-lost
loves, ended friendships, the fight for air in every breath. 'To Remember/To Forget', The Gunshy's first record, introduced Arbogast's growl
to a handful of stage mourners. 'No Man's Blues' should introduce him to a lot more. Constant touring takes the Pennsylvania native around the country all the time,
and one of these days, The Gunshy will stick. On this tour, Arbogast plays with a backing band, something he doesn't need but still finds subtle ways to use to
his advantage. Either way, the cigarette voice makes music in bars look like music seen in bars."
- New City Chicago. 4/15/04
"Also at the Hut on Sunday will be The Gunshy, aka Matt Arbogast, who has
been writing and recording in his Lancaster, Pa., home for the past six
years. In June, Arbogast released his debut CD as The Gunshy, "To Remember/To
Forget," a sparse collection of songs recorded in his attic bedroom and
released on his own Sleep Recordings. The CD earned comparisons to Tom Waits,
Will Oldham and Bruce Springsteen's "Nebraska" period with its stark, even
bleak, ruminations on life, death and lost love. Then Arbogast hit the road,
sharing stages with the likes of the late Elliott Smith, Pedro the Lion,
Alkaline Trio and Joan of Arc.
Crouched intently over his guitar, singing in a strangled whisper or a pained
cry, Arbogast has an intensely vulnerable style. He can be somewhat disconcerting
in concert, conjuring a world of disappointment and despair.
The Gunshy's second full-length CD, "No Man's Blues," was released to coincide
with this solo tour. Recorded in Lancaster and Chicago with new musical
collaborators and more instrumentation, "the new record sounds almost nothing
like the first one," Arbogast said."
- Washington Post
"The Gunshy's Matt Arbogast sings in a wavering
and engaging voice, just not too loud to wake up his roommates."
- Village Voice
"For the past five years, 23-year-old guitarist/vocalist
Matt Arbogast has been touring the country under the name The Gunshy. The
Lancaster, Pa., native's, raspy, monotone voice has drawn comparisons to
performers such as Tom Waits and a young Bruce Springsteen, adding weight
and age that belie his young age. He brings his laid-back rock stylings
to the Vaudeville Mews, 212 Fourth St., at 8 p.m. Tuesday.
The Gunshy released his first album, 'To Remember/To Forget', in June 2002,
and his second release is due in August. For the most part, The Gunshy is
a one-man act, but Arbogast has been known to occasonally bring friends
onstage to perform with him.
The San Francisco-based Ral Partha Vogelbacher will open the show. The group's
most recent album is the unusually titled 'The More Nice Fey Elven Gnomes
are Hiding in My Toilet Again.' Tickets are $4 in advance, $6 at the door."
- Des Moines Register, 7/2/03
"Music Is Magic
Fanclub collective presents eclectic five-band set
By ALEXIS DIFERDINANDO and ANDREW GILMAN
As the climate in Ithaca is apt to drastic shifts, the Fanclub Collective-curated
show at J.A.M. this past Saturday, featuring Content, 'Fraid Knots, Vox
Humana, Teapot Dome Orchestra, and The Gunshy, presented styles that changed
as quickly as the weather of this town. This is not to say that this weekend's
performers, students and touring artists alike, did not share a common passion
for music. In fact, dedication to music as an art and for some, as a career,
shone throughout the night.
Content was the spark that ignited the evening. The performance space blew
up with piercing drum beats, distorted guitar, and resounding bass. A mix
of Radiohead-influenced rock and metal-inspired intensity, Content explored
a hybrid territory in their first performance at J.A.M.
Taking the stage next, the 'Fraid Knots slowed down the pace of the concert
to the comfortable and inviting tempo of an acoustic set, resembling the
kind of intimate setting one would see on MTV Unplugged. With two acoustic
guitars and an electric bass, the band stayed true to a lo-fi, folk rock
aesthetic. Touching guitar chords and soft vocal harmonies characterized
their songs, which evoked the idiosyncratic singing tendencies of Phil Elvrum,
The Microphones' frontman. Their short yet memorable set ran through a series
of covers and originals. The Stones' "Gimme Shelter" took on a new light
as the song was stripped down to its most basic elements by the band. Dan
Meyler, the singer and guitarist, spoke between songs and gave a personal
feeling to the show. The 'Fraid Knots original "You Make Me Tense" lingered
in the audience's head with its catchy chorus and guitar parts, as the band
retired from the stage to warm applause.
Keeping with this acoustic theme, Vox Humana, roughly Latin for human voice,
conversed with the audience through seductive whispers that grew into bold
statements. In "Crawl Over Me," a sexually enticing piece, guitarist Vick
Lazar sprinkled the audience with a Beck-like mellow twang. Strumming in
a Pixies-like guitar style, Lazar lightened the mood on "Punch in the Throat"
accompanied by bassist Dan Smith, who grounded the duo's flight.
Soon thereafter, The Teapot Dome Orchestra made their way onstage amidst
a cornucopia of equipment ranging from cello and guitars to laptops. With
their first song, "Stand Still," as guitarist and lead singer Ben Kupstas
rhythmically spoke into a megaphone, the Teapot Dome Orchestra invited the
audience into their world. The warm timbre of the cello, played by Alex
Vaughan, and the caressing violin of Nina Kocylowski combined with the insistent
guitars of Ben and Jon Aizen, all backed by a laptop beat, characterized
the TPDome sound. Willing to take risks with electronic experimentation
throughout their set, the band continually approached their music in unconventional
ways, even using a bowed guitar Sigur Rós style on one song. They approached
their covers in a similarly creative fashion, playing their renditions of
Prince's "When U Were Mine" and Tears for Fears' "Mad World." With such
originals as "Antigone" and "When Telephones Ring," the TPDomers let loose,
often delving into a fury of instrumental harmony and grooves. Closing their
set with "A Waltz," the band oscillated between mellow meanderings and rock-out
blow-ups.
The Gunshy, composed solely of painfully self-aware artist Matt Arbogast,
closed the show. Ironically audience members were drawn to Matt's apparent
lack of self-confidence, though some might have been caught off guard by
such an insecure performer. Whether or not the audience identified with
The Gunshy's excessive consciousness, no one could deny he put his whole
being into the performance. The audience was riveted by emotional outpouring
as Matt sang lines like "I know I will die alone." This brutally honest
tone was present throughout the set, telling of the harsh realities of life:
"I fucked up my life for rock 'n' roll." With a hint of confidence, Matt
took the risk of playing both guitar and harmonica to spice things up during
his two song encore.
All in all, it was a concert with something everyone could enjoy, from the
brazenly provocative to the endearingly familiar. Whichever way the weather
turned that night, the passion behind the music was unwavering."
- Cornell Daily Sun, 3/13/03
"Each week, Pulp quizzes some of our favorite musicians, asking the same
six questions. Clip, save, compare!
These days, folks sometimes equate simple and sparse with elementary or
lacking, but done right, simple and sparse can make some of the most hauntingly
poignant music around.
Enter 23-year-old Matt Arbogast, better known as the Gunshy. His first full-length
record, To Remember/To Forget, can’t help but conjure images of a young
Tom Waits or Leonard Cohen in some smoky basement, strumming and singing
for friends over a few cold beers. And although the acoustic guitars, hoarse
vocals and occasional cello lend themselves to a depressing, mournful sound,
the songs come off as simply heartfelt, leaving you to decide where you’ll
let them take you.
And while the record is one you should already own, it’s the live performances
that make the Gunshy truly engaging. Arbogast pours his heart into the pensive
singer/songwriter mold without coming off as a stereotypical self-conscious
shoe-gazer. The Gunshy plays the 49’r on Wednesday, July 9, and I promise
it will be worth the $3 at the door even if that kid with the tiny wiener
is running around naked again."
- Omaha Pulp, 7/3/03
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