Our hero made his first impression on St. Louis while opening for Clem Snide at the Duck Room in the spring of 2005. Derby-wearing Sean Scolnick (a.k.a. Langhorne Slim) beat on an acoustic guitar and, drunk off his skinny white ass, rambled and meandered and refused to get off the stage. (Our indie-rock kingdom for a rail, dreamt a polite audience, just to run him out of town and back to Brooklyn.) Since then, Slim has redeemed himself with a killer, Dylan-as-rockabilly self-titled album in 2008, and last year's bubbly, gospel-conscious, folk-pop suite, Be Set Free. It's the kind of record so many scruffy songster punks aspire to make — but one that's out of reach for most because they lack the native charisma, charm and tunes that make life worth living and affirming. All things, naturally, our hero believes and communicates so well.
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