There is a specific kind of quiet you find in the Midwest, and listening to Derby Hill and his self-titled release, “Derby Hill”, feels like stumbling into that quiet after a long, noisy shift. It’s not the silence of emptiness; it’s the silence of after. After the argument, after the paycheck clears, after the sun goes down over the Detroit skyline or a Chicago street corner.
This Detroit-native-turned-Chicagoan deals in what is billed as “Neo-sincerity,” a concept that could easily crumble into cheese in lesser hands. Here, though? It feels less like a genre choice and closer to a survival mechanism. He sounds like someone who is simply too tired for irony.
When “Restless and Forgiven” kicks the door open, you aren’t really analyzing the folk-rock structure. You’re letting that warm acoustic strumming pattern dismantle your defenses. There is a thumping low-end pulse that anchors the track it feels like a heartbeat when you’re nervous supporting vocals that eventually swell into an anthemic, chant-like harmony. It demands you let go of the shame you’ve been carrying around all week.
The EP moves fluidly between these moments of communal release and intense intimacy. “Red Honey Wine” is drenched in a “golden hour” haze, sounding exactly like loyalty feels steady, rhythmic, and worn in all the right places. But “Come Back Home” shifts the weather entirely. It brings in these high-pitched, sliding tones that wail like a screen door with a rusty hinge. It evokes a rainy day where the coffee has gone cold, balancing weary sadness with a strange, comfortable embrace.
“Anything’s Possible Here” manages the tricky feat of looking backward without straining its neck, acknowledging that memories are slippery things. However, the closer, “In a Matter of Moments,” is where the cinematic description really holds water. It is dusty and distinct, evocative of a lonely drive through a twilight desert where the radio signal is fading. That weeping melodic line over the rolling strum creates a sense of displacement that sticks to your ribs.
Derby Hill explores blue-collar survival and the grit of existence without sounding like he’s trying to sell you something. He crafts a space where the listener feels seen.
It leaves you wondering: are we listening to Derby Hill’s life, or has he somehow been taking notes on ours?
