C. Gibbs

C. Gibbs looks like the first Marine over Hill 14, or maybe Nick Cave’s younger brother, but lately the man’s practically been a horse dealer. There’s his song “Parade of Small Horses,” a “Wild Horses”-era-Stones-style metaphorical association through both a pasture and a hip urban neighborhood. There’s also his song “Tenhorse,” with its loping lament of being thirsty as a tenhorse galloping over rippling acoustic guitar licks. Still, Gibbs (the C is for Christian) is no hat act; with a voice that ranges from Greg Brown’s basso profundo to the upper Neil Young range, he writes rootsy, atmospheric songs that blend pop harmonies and pedal-steel screams with nary a visible seam. Gibbs has played guitar for bands as wide-ranging as Modern English, Foetus and the dark-pop Morning Glories, but at this moment is his career, he’s buttoning down, dropping heels, grabbing mane and romping across the country as if he invented the place.