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As leader of Portland-based I Can Lick Any Sonofabitch in the House, Michael Dean Damron (aka Mike D.) writes blunt no-shit statements for that band's simple punked-up alt-country. Charlton Heston is a "cold-blooded, old-blooded, sick-ass man," gay-bashing Rev. Fred Phelps should be cornholed "until his rectum hurts" and Dubya's every word is a "fucking lie." But for all his petulant punditry, Damron is at heart tender, reflective and astute. We've glimpsed this on prior SOB albums (see "Thousand to One" from Menace), but it's here that Damron really lays himself bare.
The music is spare--just Damron's gravelly voice and guitar with tastes of organ, bass, brushed drums and harmonica. The upshot is we get to see, through his vivid dialogue and descriptions, that Damron still is a bilious sonofabitch--he's just learned to say his piece more effectively, whether it concerns mortality and self-image ("New Paint"), rent love (title track), demons ("Outlaw Song"), courage ("The Cape") or racism ("Spit"). Thus he makes a helluva point: Passion equals honesty, which begets truth--but it's how you speak your truth that gets others to take your point. It also makes A Perfect Day for a Funeral a riveting and affecting album.
Randy Hayward
Harp MagazineDamron’s a sponge, a shaman of sorts; like the mythical Atlas, he seems, while offstage, to carry an enormous weight on his shoulders. Bit by bit, song by song, the singer — on stage barefoot — shrugs off this weight, this pain and anger and frustration that’s he’s absorbed from his own life, and from those around him. Like some kind of sonic alchemists, Damron and his cohorts channel and transmute these experiences and raw emotions into something that an audience can easily digest: great music.
Steve Stav
Disheveld Magazine
