LNOY – In the Mountains of the Minds (Album Review)

With a music career spanning over 25 years, the Nevada band LNOY has a new 14-track album, In the Mountains of the Minds. 

Kicking off with a surge of energy, the album opens with ‘Whiskey Crawl’, a track defined by its rowdy, vintage-inspired stop-start arrangement. While Jerry Leon (aka Winnemucca Brown) handles the vocals, the lyrics often take a backseat to the production; his voice is frequently submerged beneath a frantic, steely wall of sound.

Ultimately, this is a track that prioritizes raw momentum over poetic clarity. Although Winnemucca Brown’s vocal delivery is not newsworthy, there is an undeniable charm to the performance – it carries a grounded, human touch that draws you towards the singer.

Some stories change as we get older, is one line I manage to write up from the lyrics. ‘Some things you can’t teach with words’, Winnemucca Brown sings in a matter-of-fact tone; then singing, ‘So I’m living life on bad decisions’, with the ‘decisions’ drawn out.

Following ‘Whiskey Crawl’ is ‘Lifeless Interrupted’. The track begins with a stripped-back arrangement, spotlighting a blend of strings and a remarkable three-step heavy drum rhythm that anchors the song from start to finish.

While it eventually builds into the rowdy sound established in the opener, the intensity here is dialed back, offering a leaner kind of chaos. The vocal approach also evolves; the performance oscillates between traditional singing and a speech-like, or declarative style, with shifting volumes that give the track a restless, unpredictable edge.

The lyrical persona wonders about two things: why they’re always pissed, and why ‘things turned out like this’. They also say something about self-destruction and self-consciousness.

The album transitions into ‘Listen to the Crows’, a track that revisits the stop-start instrumentation heard earlier. Driven by a mix of drumming, strings, and percussion, the song produces a textured, crunchy sound that carries a sharp, ear-piercing quality.

Interestingly, this grungy sound feels notably more polished and cleaner than the usual frantic fare found elsewhere on the record. Among the layers of grit, the bassy strings stand out as a particularly enjoyable highlight, providing a solid melodic anchor to the track’s jagged edges.

There’s something silly about the song, but it’s a chilled one. Another fool’s gone and no one minds, the lyrical persona says.

Next in line is ‘Young Pessimist’, featuring a title that is both funny and cynical. The track begins with a pared down build-up of strings before being joined by steady drumming and a surge of energetic percussion.

In a departure from the frantic and generic sound of the previous tracks, LNOY seems to have found a creative groove, crafting a unique sound that feels distinct to this piece. The vocal production is also more refined; the vocals are prominent and the words coming out nicely, transitioning smoothly from a spoken delivery at the start into a more defined presence.

We get the evocative imagery of a 17-year-old with a bottle of booze. We hear more about them: They’re too young to care and old enough to know. There’s something sardonic about the story: when things were bad, the world carried on.

Maintaining the record’s bite, ‘Same Old Stories’ carries a title that also has a cynical quality to it. Here, the vocals – playing on top of strings – are more prominent than in previous tracks, taking center stage early on.

While the initial build-up starts with a sound pointing to the unique, the arrangement eventually settles into a sturdy, traditional country two-step rhythm, echoing the foundational sound established earlier in the album.. Nevertheless, the charm of the performance remains consistent; just as the earlier vocals were likable, in this song, they also come out nice and likable. There is a palpable synergy here, as the vocals and instrumentation – elevated by a melancholic clean or country guitar – gel nicely to create a cohesive atmosphere.

The vocal delivery at the beginning is slow but sweet, the sweetness lessening as the vocals gain energy and are somewhat fast. The story, I take it, is a lyrical persona who’s older and no longer scared; and we see them carving their name on the bathroom wall. And we hear them talk about an exit, and then wryly talks about the ‘same old story’.

‘The Underground’ leans heavily into a grungy feel, propelled by the combination of steady drumming and crunchy-sounding guitar. This gritty backdrop sets a raw stage for the songwriting, which feels particularly grounded here.

Lyrically, it’s a self-aware song, a quality that is brought to the forefront by Winnemucca Brown’s speechlike delivery. This choice of vocal style strips away any pretense, making the track feel less like a performance and more like a direct, honest observation.

The singing sounds dense and belaboured, but if anything, it puts emphasis on the words. ‘Welcome to our song’, the lyrical persona says. ‘Our country music for all the retarded and all the abused’. Later, we hear talk about dying inside, but not having to hide.

Retaining the steady drumming found elsewhere, ‘Baby Doll’ sets itself apart by opening with loud and ringing strings. It is an interesting song vocally, marking a stylistic departure for the singer.

In this performance, Winnemucca Brown is gravelly and sounds performatively over the top. While a bit theatrical, this shift serves as a nice twist to the album, injecting a fresh layer of character and grit into the tracklist just when the listener might think they have the album’s sound figured out. You can say this is how a drunkard sounds when singing. You have to dig deeper than the usual for the lyrics.

‘Today’ kicks off with a few stick hits before it quickly launches into LNOY’s frantic trademark sound. The energy is immediate, recapturing the high-velocity chaos that defines much of the record.

Vocally, the voice is also twisted in a playful manner, adding a sense of levity to the track. However, unlike the previous track, this performance is not over the top, striking a balance between experimentation and restraint that keeps the momentum moving forward.

It’s another goofy song. ‘There goes a party right up your nose’, the song starts.

Shifting gears, ‘Tomorrow’s Waltz’ follows. It is a notably laid-back song, characterized by its piercing and melancholic strings. It stands out as a beautiful song instrumentally.

It’s a chilled song. We meet a lyrical persona who’s seated and pondering about where the days have gone. Then there’s the imagery of melting ice. There’s also talk of sadness.

We return to country land with ‘Rest In Peace’. The vocals sound strained. We meet a lyrical persona who’s got no problems living alone during the day, but come nighttime, it’s a hassle. Later we hear them say, ‘I’m dead without you’.

Next in the sequence is ‘Take My Hands’, a track defined by frantic strings and a lush arrangement. The vocal approach creates a unique tension; the singing itself is rather drawn out, resulting in a composition that feels as if it is pushing in different directions simultaneously. Clarity of the lyrics incredibly suffers.

As the track progresses, the instrumentation switches significantly. By the later stages, the vocals have disappeared, leaving behind a percussive landscape where the sound thus created comes across as wooden drumming or padding.

‘Almost Seems OK’ follows, opening with a focus on the lower register as you get some bass strings at the beginning. In this initial section, the vocals are more prominent, commanding more attention than they do in the album’s denser moments. The lyrical persona talks about a leather jacket and going to hell and back.

However, instrumentally, the song drifts into the usual chaotic style established earlier in the record. Providing a bright contrast to that familiar drift are the clean guitar licks, which are notably satisfying and inject the track with a crisp, ringing sound.

Wrapping up the vocal portion of the record, we reach ‘Monday Night’, the album’s penultimate track. The song builds up with thick and acoustic strings and understated brushwork, establishing a rich, organic foundation before the slightly energetic mix joins in afterwards.

This layering creates a sense of culmination, bringing the various acoustic and percussive textures explored throughout the album into one final, cohesive vocal performance.

The lyrical persona talks not having cigarettes nor drugs, and also having no ‘strength to speak the obvious’. It’s a downcast song, if you will. ‘Nothing’s fun’; with evolution too slow to save their soul, but one remarkable line is when they say, ‘I don’t wanna sit and watch you die’.

Following this, the actual closer is an instrumental version of ‘Baby Doll’.

SCORE/Excellent: The album leans into its own volume with a sense of pure, unadulterated glee. It occasionally teeters into ‘goofy’ territory – making it a bit difficult to take at face value – but it balances that whimsy with a handful of more traditional, grounded tracks. Ultimately, the record’s brilliance lies in its transparency; you can tell the band is having the time of their lives.

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