Greg Freeman’s sophomore record Burnover (released August 22, 2025, via Transgressive/Canvasback) is nothing short of a revelation—a vivid dive into alt-country-rock that feels both rooted and mythic, like a fleeting roadside bar burned into your memory.
The Feel of Ash and Fire
Listening to Burnover feels like standing too close to a bonfire on a cold night — the heat licks your skin, the air is dry and crackling, and there’s a sense that things could spark out of control at any moment. Freeman’s guitars scrape like embers falling, his vocals heavy and raw, like denim rubbed thin from years of wear. Every track has a tactile edge: “Point and Shoot” doesn’t just hit your ears, it rattles your ribcage like a sudden slam of a barroom door.
The Smell of Charred Earth
This album smells like charred pine, gasoline on concrete, and the metallic tang of rusted train tracks after rain. Freeman pulls history into the room with him — the “burned-over district” lore hangs heavy like smoke. When “Gallic Shrug” drifts by, it’s like catching the faint musk of old books and cigarette ash. “Salesman,” meanwhile, reeks of brass and sweat, a horn section that smolders like a half-burned match.
The Taste of Bittersweet Survival
Burnover tastes like whiskey that’s too strong, leaving a burn in your throat, followed by a sweetness you almost missed. There’s dust in your mouth, copper on your tongue, and the strange satisfaction of biting into something bitter and finding it nourishing. Freeman writes songs that sting first, then linger like honey — you taste their weight long after the record spins out.
The Sound of Collapse and Renewal
What sets Burnover apart is how alive it is with contradiction — collapse and revival, fury and tenderness, chaos and clarity. Freeman channels Warren Zevon’s sharp wit, Jason Molina’s cracked heart, and Jeff Mangum’s eccentric fury, but all filtered through his own lens of smoldering Americana. The title track aches with loss yet feels strangely comforting, like a scorched landscape sprouting green shoots.
Final Word
Burnover isn’t just Greg Freeman’s best work yet — it’s one of the year’s most visceral albums. It’s a record you don’t just play; you breathe it in, wear it on your skin, taste it in the back of your throat. And when it’s done, you’ll swear you still smell the smoke.
👉 Out now via Transgressive Records
👉 Listen on Spotify
👉 More at Greg Freeman’s site