Gus Englehorn to Release 'The Hornbook' Album, Shares New Single

If Gus Englehorn didn’t exist, one of his songs would have to invent him.  Two years after the release of his critically acclaimed album “Dungeon Master," former pro-snowboarder, reborn nomadic psych-pop prophet, Gus Engelhorn has announced a brand-new album “The Hornbook,” set for a January 31 release, available on CD and vinyl (Secret City Records).  

Primarily written in Maui, recorded in Montreal with Grammy-winning co-producer Mark Lawson (Arcade Fire, Timber Timbre, Colin Stetson), and mixed by Paul Leary from the legendary noise-rock band Butthole Surfers, The Hornbook magically transmutes the entire history of 20th-century rock ‘n’ roll—’50s golden oldies, ‘60s garage spunk, ‘70s glam flamboyance, ‘80s indie transgression, ‘90s lo-fi weirdness—into an alien transmission from the future.  The album also includes soundscaping from the Unicorns’ drummer Jamie Thompson, as well as contributions from Englehorn’s partner in music and life, Estée Preda.  

"This one is pretty dada," Englehorn said of 'Metal Detector,' "but I imagine someone trying to play metal in their garage and one of their neighbors busting in the door and unplugging the amps.  When I was writing these songs, it felt like I was making a children’s book – every song was a little story,” said Englehorn of the title concept.  “But it also felt like a little bit of a cipher for our whole world.”  

About Gus Englehorn:

Before Montreal singer-songwriter Gus Englehorn was signed to Secret City Records, he lived in a cabin in the woods and wrote Dungeon Master, the cutest, heaviest, strangest rock'n'roll record you will hear this year. Before he made the record, he lived in Salt Lake City, Utah, where he fell in love at first sight with a girl named Estée Preda, who plays drums like Moe Tucker on salvia.

Back then, Gus was a snowboarder—crisscrossing the world as a weird and world-class talent, kick-flipping through videos and shredding the gnar, posing in corporate-sponsored sunglasses.  For almost all of Gus's life, he dreamed of being a songwriter. If he couldn't be Dylan maybe he'd be Daniel Johnston—or Frank Black and The Pixies or maybe Darby Crash and The Germs. And when he finally emerged, he had found a sound that was dark and delightful, fun and demented, packed with dynamics and the chug of a hysterical guitar.