Jake Mann authors rock songs imbued with the archetypal dustbowl patina of a Steinbeck story, delivering lyrical and melodic snapshots on powerful hooks - classic themes artfully played out in kitchens, in living rooms, in dusty California, in places with cacti and freeways. Parallel South is rife with desolation: people drifting apart, landscapes moved through - listening becomes sometimes voyeuristic, as if what"s happening should be private and unrepeated. But, it"s too loud to be private and too native to the classic pop tradition to not be played over and over again. That"s the thing about Mann"s songwriting - it tells his stories of moody isolation and the hope that lies beyond destructive, worn-out situations. Through the prism of the most treasured aspects of that familiarly understood aforementioned song language, it gets you, hits you right where you understand, with riffs and bridges built over swirling percussive waters. People cite greats whose greatness is tough to describe as touchstones - Elvis Costello, Pavement, Thiebaud"s overexposed vistas - theirs is the pathway Mann travels alongside on his Parallel South journey.