Album Review: Where The Humans Eat by Willy Mason

The first thought that registers a few bars into Willy Mason's Where the Humans Eat is, no way is this guy 19. That's the claim on the promotional materials, though, and a glance at the boyishly disheveled singer/songwriter on his website says fair enough. Still, Mason's is a voice that fuses influences so at odds with adolescence and gawky youth -- hints of Alejandro Escavedo's dirt-road anguish surface alongside flecks of Johnny Cash's stoic resignation -- that accepting it as the product of someone barely legal is impossible; outright denial is required.

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