Lou Hazel // Riot of the Red

Lou Hazel sings like a man with too much on his mind and nowhere to put it. Riot of the Red drifts through late-night folk and cosmic Americana, pulling its stories from the ether like a long-lost transmission. There’s a Dylan-esque drawl to Hazel’s delivery, a ragged elegance to the way his words tumble out—half prophecy, half confession.

Magic AL’s production wraps the songs in a spectral glow, finding warmth in the warble of an old organ, the shimmer of tremolo-drenched guitars, the dust-coated hum of a steel string. The arrangements feel lived-in, loose yet deliberate, with tones that seem to hover in the air, settling in like the last embers of a fire.

With Riot of the Red, Hazel crafts a world that feels just out of reach—familiar yet dreamlike, flickering between past and present. It’s a record that lingers, not in the big moments, but in the spaces between them.

Highlights include the slow-burning opener “Real Good Time,” the waltzing poem “Country Clown,” and heartfelt “Phone Calls With Mom.”