Domestic Drafts

For all the existential questions he raises in his lyrics and the striking performances he leads from his virtuoso band, Andy Cush writes music with a simple goal: “I want it to sound good in a bar.” And indeed, Only the Singer—the solo debut from the Brooklyn-based musician and Garcia Peoples bassist/vocalist—seems destined to soundtrack half-remembered evenings in cozy locales, blending with the smell of beer and cigarettes, wafting over crowds of friends and lovers and strangers, all brought together under the shared mission of following wherever the good times may roll. Cush’s deep baritone can conjure the sound of outlaw country, downer folk, or 3-a.m.-last-call rock’n’roll. In his songs lusty come-ons sit alongside heartfelt confessions, and the thought of “waking up feeling like a turd” can spiral into one of the more emotionally resonant depictions of depression you will hear on record in 2025. Backed by musicians equally adept in jazzy vision quests (“Someplace Without Rain”) and Ditch-era Neil Young burnouts (“Only the Singer”), there’s a sense of evolution within each song, journeys that always arrive at unexpected destinations. In these ​​warm, tragic-comic anthems, Domestic Drafts stand beside you at the jukebox, tired eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses, there to remind you the night’s only getting started—and the best song you’ve ever heard is the one that’s just about to come on.