Really, just look at him in that photo. God damn, I want that shirt, I want that suit, I want that hair. The worst is that he looks like he isn't even trying. In fact, chances are pretty good that he may not be trying. He may in fact have slept in that suit last nigh, but it doesn't matter, that is how that suit is suppose to be warn - its suppose to be lived in.
If you research Cass McCombs the reoccurring narrative is that he is a wreckloose, a vagabond, a man without a home. He songs sound like. His songs are are places to live to in with him. He sounds like a man who given this ultimatum before - meet me here at dawn and I'm leaving whether you show or not.
"Meet Me Here at Dawn" is chalk full of little spaces and crevices to crawl into and feel the space around you and see what he is talking about. They are between the sloppy guitar playing,the beats between the snare drums and the pauses in his breath. You get inside of them and you try them on for size. They feel like flannel shirts on a brisk fall day.
I want McCombs to tell me stories of adventure and loss, and I want to hear them around a campfire with a strong drink.