So, somewhere in the region of eighteen months ago, I woke up to a barrage of texts from Henry Brill, telling me about this artist he’s seen playing in a club in Nashville that evening. I wish I could find the conversation, as the messages were basically a compendium of the most superlative superlatives going and it’s quite the way to start your day waking up to that level of positivity from a drunk, hairy man 4000 miles away.