June Star writes songs about loss like Russian novelists write about cold.
While each song may not mention it explicitly, loss pervades the landscape, tugging at your clothes, weighing on your shoulders, creeping into your bones. June Star maps the genome of loss, but it is not a map of the world shown here; rather, it is the local intimate map of your own breakups and heartaches. You know its back alleys and shortcuts, its hangouts and its lonesome places as well as you know the sound of your own voice. June Star catches you up short, surprising you with how these places can still shock you, and how much it still stings. June Star draws these places out, not in the adolescent palette of rock n roll rage, but rather with the deliberative shades and adult muse of the best country music.