When the last ding-dong of doom has clanged and faded from the last worthless rock hanging tideless in the last red and dying evening, even then there will still be one more sound: that of man’s puny, inexhaustible voice still talking.

Those are the words of William Faulkner, taken from his defiant, melancholy Nobel Prize acceptance speech in 1950. They are also one hell of a way to open a record. Welcome to Sons of Bill’s third album, Sirens.

Every town has its hometown heroes and Sons of Bill are Charlottesville’s. I had the disadvantage of meeting some of the guys in…

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