Somewhere between scalding power lines and sagging railroad tracks, leans Conroy Wolf. A half-broken man born among barns, corn, and soybeans. Where the big heart reconciles the small mind, and the truest freedom is known only by a herbicide wind. When he sings, he appears whole again, but only under the fleeting spell of a well-crafted song.

This artist's ego is as flattened as the landscape. But listen to his records, and it's clear he cares deeply about getting his message across: We're not alone, just far apart, and maybe this grand disconnect has an existential remedy. 

In time, we'll all be lifted up, one by one. Until then, it's your duty to grow out your antenna. Only then might you harvest any lofty signals from down here on the bottom of this great plain.