Mister Sweet Whisper

Surreal, layered, Lynchian visions by Birmingham, Alabama’s septuagenarian poet and storyteller, Johnny Coley. On his Mississippi Records debut, Coley takes a completely improvised and semi-hallucinatory journey down decrepit southern trucking routes, gaslit Victorian alleys, past “a small frame house / transparent with fire,” and by women arguing on the cobblestones outside a darkened club in Rome (“you could only see their lips”).