Greg Freeman ignites on Burnover

The Bethesda, Maryland native left his home state and moved to Burlington, Vermont at the age of 18. Burnover, the follow-up to his critically-acclaimed 2022 debut, I Looked Out, is informed by the desire to grasp the idea of belonging somewhere far from your roots. Rather than writing about himself and his surroundings, however, Freeman took inspiration from the places around Vermont and the folklore of New York. He then created stories about people trying to understand a landscape that once felt familiar but no longer made sense.

Borrowing its title from “The Burned-Over District” – a term used to describe parts of New York that were hotbeds of religious revival and utopian communities in the 19th century – Freeman’s sophomore release is full of character-driven tales of violence, loss, and epiphany. Thanks to his evocative lyrics, a sense of place is palpable in each of the album’s ten songs, which juxtapose explosive, fuzzed out indie rock with unhurried, twangy alt-country. In addition to their local colour, the tracks also hint at danger or revelation – you never quite know what’s lurking around the corner.

“Shot down in the shade of cardboard canyons / They cut the scene and saw blood on the cameraman”, lead single “Point and Shoot”, a live-wire song with raw, chaotic guitars and an expansive arrangement, opens the album by recounting the infamous shooting on the set of Rust, starring Alec Baldwin, who later fled to Vermont to escape the press. The lyrics then turn surreal as Freeman almost slurs his words like a Neil Young impersonator after he’s had a few. Later still, the song slackens to stoner rock tempo, but the piano keeps banging away cheerfully. An intriguing opener, “Point and Shoot” delivers a bold taste of what’s to come.

“I wanted to write songs that were fun and challenging to play on guitar, and maybe had a little more movement”, Freeman explains and it’s safe to say he succeeded, and then some. Tracks like “Gulch” and “Gone (Can Mean a Lot of Things)” burst with intensity, and the guitars have plenty of crunch and winding solos throughout the album to please fans of Americana, classic rock and even noise rock. Still, the highlights offer much more than just strumming or shredding six-strings. Take the free-flowing “Curtain”, which was demoed as a meandering guitar jam until pianist Sam Atallah added the tack-piano and made the song come alive. At close to seven minutes, it has enough space to carve out for lively piano leads, distorted guitars, a soprano saxophone, and even barnyard animal sounds. Elsewhere, recorded almost fully live with Freeman’s touring band, “Salesman” treats you to a similarly exciting variety: the horns boom, the pedal steel wails and Lily Seabird’s fetching harmonies soar as, much like the “blind-drunk salesman looking for you door to door”, the song drifts ever closer to a rousing crescendo.

The band can also tone things down a bit, though. “Gallic Shrug”, the album’s most accessible tune, is an alt-country stroller à la Paul Westerberg, built around the titular gesture, a symbol of casual indifference that often proves heartbreaking. Even though it runs over six minutes, the title track is even more straightforward. A no-frills mid-tempo lope with a classic rock sound, it moves along undeterred as Freeman’s lyrics recall the 1980 Chicago Firefighter Strike before shifting into more cryptic poetry about “psychic-silo highways” and “glacial lakes across your brain”.

Not every song hits equally hard, but the quality never dips, and Freeman saves the best for last. Following a piano intro, the swirling nine-minute closer “Wolf Pine” about an old tree in Burlington simmers with horns and unsettling instrumental flourishes, the anticipation adding to the intrigue as you wait for the explosion that feels inevitable. Instead, the track turns moody, then slightly jazzy before some noise erupts about six minutes in, with the rhythm section still nowhere in sight. Freeman’s voice is weary but defiant, the chaotic beauty around him mimicking the natural wonder.

A lot like the Burned-Over District in the 19th century, Burnover is a cauldron of ideas and attitudes, chronicling characters with hopes, fears, and traits of the American spirit. Freeman may sometimes feel like an outsider in New England, but having engaged with the myths and the history of the region, he has developed a new sense of self. It’s one that will thrill fans of inventive, guitar-driven alternative rock.