"He has a star voice and writes hit songs."

-Sharon White of The Whites

Dark Land of the Sun Press

"Falling on that folk/alt-country line, Jeremy Current opens his 10-song album with "FYEO," a heartfelt tune with his soothing vocals front and center. The music is presented as something simple with hints of pedal steel behind him, his storytelling focused in the spotlight. While the instruments sound sparse, listen closely and you can peel back the layers. "Go Up North" offers the right hint of harmony by Molly Skaggs, while his voice also finds the right accompaniment on "Angel." He mines an Appalachian vibe for "Will You Be" thanks to the help of banjo player and fellow Charlotte resident Bailey Cooke. It's not all acoustic either, as the electric guitar illuminates the way on a few songs without being overpowering. The way it floats in on standout track "My Name" offers the right energy — hints of punk ethic for a solo before the song picks up and carries the listener away. There's a '50s element to the kickdrum backdrop of "Little Moon" stirred in with a more soulful vocal delivery. There are moments when Current truly shines because of the rhythm of the music or the harmonies presented and, at times, I wished they happened more often.

Current has solid songwriting and lyrical content and the perfect voice for its delivery. The music isn't too complex, but there are enough elements to give it depth and highlight the words in the right atmosphere. It's an album that starts off on solid footing, but still manages to get better with each track and each listen."

Jeff Hahne of Creative Loafing, Charlotte, NC

House On Fire Press

"In order to best communicate my thoughts about Jeremy Current’s debut EP, I’ll need to flash you back to the fall of 2005. My wife and I had been married for about a year. We had recently traveled from North Carolina to Kentucky and Tennessee to be with her family as they laid her grandfather to rest. Given that April’s dad had died when she was only ten, her gramps was more of a father figure than just a grandparent.

It was an emotional time and one that was amplified when we watched Cameron Crowe’sElizabethtown. Now I know that this movie didn’t connect with everyone, but it sure did with us. The loss of a family member, a trip to reconnect with relatives back home, the long distance development of a romantic relationship, the setting in a quiet Kentucky town…it all hit home and now Elizabethtown is one of our favorites.

So why all this talk about personal history and a film that some considered a flop? Well, along with our connection to that movie, we absolutely love the soundtrack that accompanied it. It’s a fantastic mix of folk and Americana tunes from artists like Tom Petty, Ryan Adams, My Morning Jacket, Nancy Williams, Patty Griffin and Eastmountainsouth.

It has become a staple of our road trips and as soon as I heard House On Fire, Current’s music immediately felt right at home alongside such artists. This is the highest praise that I can give this EP, as it is somehow instantly as evocative as those tunes that we’ve come to know and love over the past four years. These five songs resonate with my soul in a similar fashion and that’s an impressive feat.

More than just a collection of songs, House On Fire traverses an entire range of emotions, from homesickness to the double-edged sword of love lost and found. There’s a world-weariness here that’s coupled with a quiet determination to keep pressing on. Musically, there’s beautiful instrumentation at work, with each piece of the puzzle subtlety complementing the next. Current’s voice hovers just above it all, somehow urgent, yet assured, all at once.

If anything, the EP left me wanting more from Current and his band. I suppose that’s a good problem to have when you release new music…so hopefully it won’t be too long before they have more goodness to share."

Jeremy Hunt of Shakefire.com

"It's like hearing your secrets set to music, sung more beautifully than it ever felt carrying them hidden and alone - an effect of Jeremy Current's concerts, the blistering openness and intimacy. One of the miracles of his début e.p. House on Fire is that the very same improbable intimacy is somehow wafting through the speakers, like a door you've left open to another year past but unforgotten. It makes no sense, and it's why we started thinking music was important to us in the first place. Why it even exists. 

Trying to pinpoint Jeremy's particular set of talents has become something of a spectator sport to those who have seen him play - a group of people growing larger by the day. Is it his golden-smooth vocal chords? The melodies delicate to the point of breaking yet still so strong we find ourselves singing to them days afterwards? We check off the list: alt-country, folk-rock driven, solid songwriting in the traditional American vein, an able and increasingly experienced frontman. There’s quite a lot to add up. Is it the flexibility of the experience, the durability of those songs, knowing that at any given show the band may range in size from Jeremy alone up to a ten-peice band complete with string section, but still the bare-knuckled, sweet-hearted honesty will be the same? Or not the same. Maybe better with each listening. You walk out of those shows having gotten more than you gave.

He’s taken his time, building up his act, his war-chest of solid tunes, his relationships with the community and its artists, the respect of co-laborers in music and industry. He’s worked gradually and persistently, making the current highs feel to us like only the beginning of a long, fruitful career.

Picking out one element doesn't lead us to the searing-hot soul of Jeremy Current's music any more than diagnosing the drive-train gets us to the grocery store, which is something of the magic of it, if we can think of it in so bewilderingly simple a word: magic. Terribly lived-in and, sometimes under an artist’s and performer's steady and unfailingly patient gaze, opening up suddenly before us in poignant and heart-steadying beauty, comforting and mysterious the way the confessional has become. An old, comfortable friend, and something still distant beneath all that familiarity. Something listening for another song." 

-Stephen Morrison of Luz