I was abducted by a feral band of Latvian hookers when I was a year and a half into my first Mormon mission spreading the good word. This was a real game changer. I’ve been writing poetry ever since. After a couple million coffee houses, a few hair bands on The Strip, and a life of abject debauchery I ended up with a wrinkled brown paper bag of songs, poems and stories, some of which even I like.
"Hypnotic guitar meets wrong side of the tracks storytelling, leading us down a dark alley of spokenword intrigue. (…) Jagged harmonicas tear in. Jim Priest is not to be missed.""
For fans of: Tom Waits, Loudoun Wainwright III, Sage Francis.
– Shannon Duvall, from “Before I Die”, YouBloom Festival
We first met at Wilcox and Yucca. It was a sunny afternoon in a neighborhood impervious to the sun. Maybe met is misleading. It wasn't like a mutual friend introduced us over vodka gimlets while Bobby Short serenaded us from the Cole Porter songbook. It was more like I kicked him.
The roaches on the south wall,
fortified by the remnants of a Burrito Supreme,
form a phalanx and advance menacingly
on the roaches of the east wall