Greg Freeman crafts vivid worlds of biblical deluges, apocalyptic fever dreams, and green mountain malaise. His debut LP, ‘I Looked Out’, places his creaking, crooning voice at the forefront, cutting through static-laden soundscapes with palpable urgency. Whether in the careening momentum of ‘Tower,’ the country-tinged squall of ‘Souvenir Heart,’ or the anthemic swell of ‘Palms,’ Freeman’s songwriting is as evocative as it is cinematic. Backed by a seven-piece band adorned with pedal steel, horns, and eerie strings, his music feels like a late-night drive through Chittenden County – headlights piercing the dark, slush beneath the tires, the unknown just ahead.
