In Tall Buildings is the title of this record, the name of the band, and the title of a John Hartford song. This "band" is really Erik Hall and his songs. Erik is a natural multi-instrumentalist, equally at home playing electric guitar and percussion in NOMO, fuzzed-out bass in His Name Is Alive, or Motown-inspired drums in Saturday Looks Good To Me. But here we find him, for the first time, in his own element, alone in his home studio, layering track upon track of vocal harmonies, guitars, pianos, and heavy rhythms, to create his solo debut as a veritable one man band. This is rock music, informed by Erik's array of influences. Imagine a Thom Yorke remix of Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young, or if Gillian Welch were to sit in with Steve Reich & Musicians. Bubbling synth sequences, driving distorted drum beats, interwoven finger-picked guitars, and pulsing woodwind chorales all find their way into the mix. Erik's lyrics unveil a personal world through stark imagery: a monster's lair, a bed of soft linens, a spilled glass of wine, a shared whiskey bottle, a plummeting star, and a walking man. The story of the album starts in Ann Arbor, where Erik got his music degree from the University of Michigan and sold cheese at Zingerman's Deli. A planned move to the east coast fell through as a long-term relationship unraveled, and new songs started to appear. Erik headed home to Chicago, and, in a high-rise overlooking Lake Michigan, he slowly crafted his first record. It's not so much a breakup album as it is a document of a man making a new beginning, and finding his own voice. For a couple years In Tall Buildings sat in the slow cooker while Erik spent months at a time on the road with NOMO and His Name Is Alive, returning home to put all his earnings into recording equipment and all his time into songwriting. Tape delays, spring reverbs, half-broken synthesizers, funky organs, mics, preamps, mixers, and an old Fender Starcaster guitar all found their way into his apartment and onto his songs. He maxed out his credit card, recorded vocals in a linen closet, and called in favors to make it happen, and after four years and countless hours producing himself, here is a beautiful and challenging record. Not long ago, listening to Rock & Roll music was an act of rebellion; records were contraband to be listened to in the quiet of the night. For Cains & Abels' frontman David Sampson, Rock & Roll was an escape from a strict religious upbringing; music representative of his own adolescent urge for freedom. Sampson named his band with that rebellion in mind. Conjuring up those fabled Old Testament brothers, Cains & Abels' name represents the coexistence of good and bad and the very basic human condition of being both at the same time. "We can't help it," Sampson says, "we're all good and we're all evil, often in the same actions." Indeed, the band itself presents that opposition at times. Sampson's voice is both pleading and powerful, calling out like a sermon over bright, shimmering guitar chords and spare drum beats. He sings with the strength gleaned from knowing full well the intense power music can possess. Sampson writes songs that are heartbroken