Michael O’Neill captures the haunted countrified post-punk-pop soul sound like no other; his hypnotic circular chord progressions sprinkled with delicate thoughtful hooks lead you to a misconceived notion that this stuff is easy when it is anything but.

Michael is an artist with a deceptively simple grasp of art and its subtle intricacies. On the outside he is rough- and- ready shooting from the hip. But listen more closely and the true sophistication shyly emerges. Like the onstage Michael, there is a humble reticence lurking behind that colorful wall of hard-driving sound. A human story of heartache and loss as folksy as the Grand Old Opry, if it were located in lower Manhattan.

And no matter what twists and turns Michael’s music has taken in the decades since he began, there remains its defining characteristic: a side winding sound that evokes dust-blown, mythically sprawling open spaces and the restless roads that run through them.

“When I’m moving is when I’m most at ease, I gotta keep working,” he murmurs “And I’m not done yet.”

Music 9-11p

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