Amigo the Devil

In the vast realm of modern folk and alternative rock, Amigo The Devil is an artist who channels a voice of unsettling beauty and raw truth. Splicing alarming honesty with personal realizations, his narratives carry weight, wisdom and wit. Nestled within the corners of Amigo the Devil’s haunting melodies and daring experimentation lies a tale as profound as the dirges he sings. 

With a brilliant mind, full soul and a penchant for the obscure, Amigo the Devil’s songwriting harkens back to a more brutal state of songwriting. His songs are greatly influenced by the honesty of Leonard Cohen, the creativity of Tom Waits and the ruthlessness of Chavela Vargas. Rather than imitate, he identifies with their authentic disregard of consequences when it comes to songwriting and releasing music. Amigo the Devil is not polished or clean – he’s all heart, with reckless abandon. His understanding of emotions is deep and instinctual, choosing to embrace one’s flaws instead of trying to change them. 

The son of a Greek father and Spanish mother, Amigo the Devil – otherwise known as Danny Kiranos – is a first-generation American from South Florida. He came of age in downtown Miami during the mid-1980s when the city was equal parts thriving, diverse and dirty. With a lust for travel and unusual experiences, Kiranos bounced around from city to city – 16 in total from LA to Europe – before he finally found a home in Texas. It was there, in Austin, that Amigo the Devil took root. 

Kiranos spent significant portions of his earlier career embracing an almost nomadic lifestyle, absorbing tales from the underworld and penning songs about other wandering or lost souls. These stories, from the tragic to the comedic, found their way into his lyrics, and  gained a steady fellowship of fans along the way.

Amigo the Devil’s first full-length album, Volume 1, released as an amalgamation of three earlier EPs. Laden with stories of his travels, relationships, and existential musings, the collection gave birth to ballads both mournful and satirical, including “Hell and You,” “I Hope Your Husband Dies” and “One Kind of People.” In 2018, Amigo the Devil released a proper studio album, Everything is Fine, which brought forth chantable ditties like “Hungover in Jonestown” as well as his dubiously introspective, “Cocaine and Abel.” 

His first works showed the promise of the masterful songwriter Amigo the Devil has become. Early releases were dominated by dark tales of serial killers and the macabre mixed into a layered, deeper meaning. In themselves, the songs are genius. But as he grew as a songwriter the music grew with it, leading into a turning point that began shifting the tides for Kiranos’ songs. “For the first time,” he mentioned in an interview, “I began seeing the light at the end of this dark, winding tunnel I’d been singing about.”

This newfound perspective became evident in his 2021 album, Born Against, released under his independent label Liars Club Records. The music, while retaining its eerie charm, began to venture into territories of acceptance and redemption. The raw experimentation and flirtation with unconventional instruments all mirrored Amigo the Devil’s journey of self-discovery and growth. Born Against garnered critical acclaim from Rolling Stone, Consequence, No Depression and American Songwriter, which described Amigo the Devil as “an artist who gives full reign to intrigue and intellect in equal measure.” 

The next chapter of Amigo the Devil continues with the February 2024 release of Yours Until the War is Over – his most disarming and singular work to date. The first taste arrives with “Cannibal Within,” a song that descends to the depth of the human experience. Self-produced and recorded in a backwoods bar-turned-studio, the banjo-driven track speaks to honesty without pity. Experimental percussion – like the repetitive dropping of a pick, bottle tinks and the clacking of toy teeth – immerses the listener within an internal dialogue of self-doubt and insecurities, personified.

The 13 tracks that make up Yours Until the War is Over together weave themes of relatable self destruction and trauma bonding with arresting authenticity. Riddled with obscure literary references – akin to Kiranos’ maniac reading habit – the album proves that this whole Amigo the Devil thing isn’t some true crime niche. Yours Until the War is Over is a songwriter’s record. 

Similar to Waits and Cohen, Amigo the Devil embodies the truest form of an artist in this new work. Inspired by a mantra adopted from unexpected, late-night advice, he doesn’t have to “be the story to tell the story.” Songwriting doesn’t have to be linear, or biographical. 

“I don’t write songs for a purpose. The beauty lies in how people take them – the magic happens between the songwriter and the listener in that shared moment,” explains Kiranos. “Once this new record comes out, it’s not mine anymore. And that’s why we keep writing records, because then we have something that’s only ours again, even if just for a little while. Like wounded wildlife, you nurse them back to health and then you have to let them go.”

In a world filled with fleeting tunes and temporary stars, artists like Amigo the Devil are the reminders of the power of storytelling – of music’s age-old role in narrating human emotion. Kiranos seems to be on a lifelong journey, not just of personal discovery, but of reminding us all of the roots, the rawness and the reality that music can offer. 

Despite his growing notoriety, Amigo the Devil remains enigmatic. He isn’t one to bask in the limelight, choosing once again to let his art speak for itself.

Rejecting the influence of fleeting scenes and encroaching developers; the Laurelthirst Public House has always stayed in tune with its generations of muddy patrons carving out lives as blue-collar artists. “The Thirst”–Portland, Oregon’s oldest independent venue–has always been a sort of misfit stronghold–a sanctuary for the same kind of spirit that sustained local punk legends Dead Moon and outsider folk hero Michael Hurley. It’s also become a lifeblood for working-class musicians like Taylor Kingman. Most nights, you’ll likely find the TK & The Holy Know-Nothings songwriter and lead vocalist on stage (or at the bar). Ask around the place and you’ll quickly uncover Kingman’s reputation as the sort of songwriter who makes other songwriters jealous, even angry. You’ll also hear about his hustle as both a player and writer, as those same songwriters line up to play with him. It’s led to countless projects, exploring myriad concepts and styles, and making the sort of honest music that stands starkly, alongside the Laurelthirst, against the backdrop of a city quickly fading under the lacquer of gentrification.

TK & The Holy Know-Nothings is perhaps Kingman’s most beloved project. Half-dutifully and half-facetiously self-dubbed “psychedelic doom boogie,” the group was born out of Kingman’s desire to create a loose, groove-heavy bar band that never sacrifices the importance of good, honest songwriting. Doing so required pulling together a local supergroup of friends, neighbors, and fellow Laurelthirst royalty, including drummer Tyler Thompson and multi-instrumentalists Jay Cobb Anderson (lead guitar, harmonica), Lewi Longmire (bass, guitar, pedal steel, flugelhorn, mellotron, lap steel) and Sydney Nash (keys, bass, slide guitar, cornet). It’s a band of deeply contrasting styles buoyed by a sincere and palpable mutual trust–one that allows them to find and lose the groove with the same ease. They build graceful, spaced-out landscapes around Kingman’s storytelling–his voice ragged and broken one moment and raging the next–only to deconstruct them through a fit of manic and often dissonant rabbit holes. And Kingman’s equally irreverent, delicate, and cerebral first-person narratives somehow merge seamlessly with it all.

The Incredible Heat Machine, the band’s forthcoming album, is an album of growth. It doesn’t diverge all that much from 2019’s Arguably OK (and 2020’s B-sides EP Pickled Heat). Its story is simply that of a working band coming off the road and going right back to work, intent on capturing the growth and wear amassed in the meantime. Both albums were recorded in just a few mid-winter days (two years apart) in Enterprise, Oregon, a quiet cowboy town at the foot of the snow-capped Wallowa Mountains. They were both made live, with no overdubs, on stage at the historic OK Theatre, where much of their budget was again spent on keeping the heat on. And again, Thompson engineered on the fly with the help of old buddy and local theater resident Bart Budwig. While Arguably OK introduced listeners to the band’s distinct brand of unbound rock & roll infused with the strange, wide-open, outsider nature of Western country; The Incredible Heat Machine just goes stranger, wider, and further out. Lyrically, Kingman delves deeper into the struggles of the working-class musician with themes of substance abuse and redemption, companionship as salvation, and the ever-present shadow of disillusionment. His lyrics are again intensely honest, full of all the lessons learned and ignored, while always tempered with mystery and room for the listener.

“I like to alternate between plain-spoken truth and fragmented visions of painfully vivid dreamscapes,” Kingman notes. “Songs need a listener to be complete. And I don’t want to tell the listener what to think or do. It’s our job to present honesty, good or bad: an unfinished song from an unfinished life. And everybody hearing it gets a co-write because each moment is unique.”

This is apparent from the start, as album opener “Frankenstein” comes to life with deceptive lyrical hooks, coupling the pieced-together aesthetic of the famous resurrected corpse with generous metaphorical roundabouts. Its psychedelic wormholes envelop the song in warm, trippy veils, transcending the confines of its Western country roots to an altogether more experimentally robust misfit anthem.

“Serenity Prayer” follows with the Sisyphean journey of a working musician who makes good for a few hours each evening playing at the local tavern before finding themselves inevitably drawn to a seat at the bar again. It’s an entreaty to oneself to find the strength to change tomorrow, as Kingman writes, “Grant me the serenity to pay for this in change,” and “Grant me the wisdom to know I owe the difference,” before always returning to, “But a friend behind the bar is a mighty fine deal.”

Kingman’s songwriting vacillates between the specter of longing and the levity of self-awareness. “The trick is to be honest,” Kingman says. “And there are many ways to be honest.” It comes in songs as crushing as “Hell of a Time” and “I Don’t Need Anybody”; in irreverent tracks like “I Lost My Beer”, a love letter to a misplaced libation that is already a favorite among Laurelthirst patrons; and in the rattling regret of hangover lament, “Bottom of the Bottle”. And then there’s the title track and its “Preprise”, a two-part roadhouse opus that splits The Incredible Heat Machine, comprising a formidable showcase of TK & The Holy Know-Nothings’ divergent styles, both sonically and lyrically. “I want a line to fill me with golden light and then leave me alone in the pale desert with just the wind and my heartbeat,” Kingman shares.

Finally, the album closer “Just the Right Amount” ties the album’s themes together as Kingman places himself on stage, staring at the mic and the crowd, reflecting on the experiences and decisions that led to these songs. “I think he liked the way it sounded / Drunk and bleeding on a borrowed mic / I’ve never seen a bar so crowded / Dead quiet on a Saturday night / Maybe one to get them crying / Maybe one to help them fight / You gotta do a little wrong, kid / To get that kind of right.”

“At our core, we are working musicians. And that’s why we will always be a bar band no matter where we play. We are players and that’s all we wanna do. We live for songs and we take them very seriously. Even the stupidest ones. It’s all sacred and that’s why it should be mangled by children.”

TK & The Holy Know-Nothings’ new album is above all things true to the moment it was created, full of lessons unheeded and questions unanswered. In the end, it will always exist in that moment and whatever moment it shares with its listeners. Kingman sums it up best: “The Incredible Heat Machine is a haunted jukebox on wheels and God’s own check engine light. It’s a locomotive composed of living parts linked by some buck-toothed telepathy allowing it to make it down the tracks where there is no final answer or destination, just movement and feeling.”

Nate Bergman, the Nashville by way of D.C. singer-songwriter, is a performer with a voice that transcends generations. His powerful vocals create a timeless sound that weaves through the rich tapestry of Nashville’s musical heritage. Bergman’s unique ability to infuse elements of Country, Rock, Folk, and Soul results in a sound that resonates with an increasingly diverse audience.
Anchored in Nashville’s vibrant music scene, Bergman’s journey began with a passion for storytelling through song. His live performances are a testament to his exceptional talent, marked by a magnetic stage presence that captivates audiences wherever he sings. Whether with an acoustic guitar or a full band, Bergman’s performances are a visceral experience, leaving an indelible mark on those fortunate enough to witness his artistry live.
Beyond the city limits, Bergman has navigated highways across the globe supporting legendary artists like Amigo The Devil, Clutch, Valerie June, Will Hoge, The War and Treaty, Thursday, Cursive, My Chemical Romance, Arlo McKinley, and Anthony Green. Nate Bergman’s commitment to creating a timeless musical legacy, combined with his powerful voice and electrifying live performances, establishes him as a standout figure in Nashville’s thriving music scene.