I LOVE PEOPLE

Like a sweet spring breeze after a long,
cruel winter, Cory Hanson's blowing
through town again. And like the wind,
I Love People comes from parts unknown.
Need a ride' Long as you're ready to find
yourself wherever it dies down, jump on!
Despite all the complications of life here
in Central Casting 2025, Cory and the
boys are happier than ever to be playing
music at its most beautiful for ALL the
people: eminent hipsters bellied up to
the bar alongside the ropers, riders and
all the other jokers for whom freedom's
just another word for nothing left to lose
or do.
Followers of Cory's twin arcs as solo
singer and Wand member will be
intrigued to learn that the lineup here is
the same band that recorded last year's
Vertigo. Yep, Wand-their Masters of
Unbounded Space robes traded in for
Wrecking Crew trucker's caps, as they
reel out licks both tasty and smooth, like
chopsmeisters of yore. That's Robbie Cody co-producing behind the desk,
Evan Backer playing bass and arranging strings and horns, Evan Burrows
on drums and percussion and Cory on piano, guitars and voices and songs.

Travelin' light and puttin' up dry, I Love People bugs out to the what-the-
fuck'-ness on the edge of town spied now and again on Cory's previous solos,

Pale Horse Rider and Western Cum. Here though, the simmering shades of
Rider's quiet horror and the bursts of Cum's cartoonish, gun-slinger bravado
have given way to an ever-more impartial view of life on the ground, tinted
in gossamer sepia and other nostalgic tones. Written over the past several
annums, Cory's songs ensnare the 70s singer-songwriter in a feedback loop,
drawing additional inspiration from the indelible everyman melodies of the
American Songbook. With gilded threads and emboldened needling, I Love
People's songs are rendered with immediacy and a deep-pile Hollywood
production sound that radiates affluence and comfort, even in the darkest
and coldest nights way out beyond the range of any signal.
Placed and displaced among gorgeously outfitted musical arrangements,
I Love People's people are kin to their threadbare folk forbears. Song by
song, their occupations, social positions and dispositions unravel like silk into
the wind. While they perform, Cory loiters backstage, gently pulling at the
curtain to reveal silly details hidden in plain sight inside America's broken
heart. It doesn't come as a surprise, and it's not strictly funny, either: a giddy
mash of the two, the delirium that comes from finding what you think is "true"
is someone else's "false." When maps won't help you find out where you are
anymore, you're as normal and horrible as the next person, playing out your
days in a place of constant activity with your parallax view progressing invisibly
into a limbo beyond the horizon. That's your freedom for you, and it might
be more sad, more terrifying-if it weren't so much fun!
Even though their subject won't stop squirming, Cory and his merry men have
constructed a timeless still life with I Love People, simply by living for the fun
and love of it all. Just like the rest of us!