September 8, 2025
HuDost’s 2025 album throws punches and poetry in equal measure
If most music these days is background noise for grocery shopping, HuDost’s new album The Monkey in the Crown is the loud stranger in aisle three yelling poetry through a megaphone. It’s bold, unpredictable, and just dangerous enough to make you wonder if it should come with a warning label.
When genres refuse to behave
Moksha Sommer and Jemal Wade Hines, the Montreal-by-Kentucky duo behind HuDost, never met a genre they couldn’t hijack. Americana? Check. Balkan folk? Why not. World rock? Toss it in. The record sounds like Florence Welch and Radiohead went camping in the Appalachians while Rumi handled the snack list. Against all odds, the mix works; it’s a stew of sounds that shouldn’t sit together, yet they somehow form a feast.
Lyrics that bruise and soothe in equal measure
"Broken Down in America" doesn’t tiptoe around polite commentary. Opening with, "Hey, my son, it’s Monday morning / Use your teacher like a human shield," the track grabs your collar before the coffee hits. But then the chorus, "The only arms I bear are here and open", offers comfort like a protester passing out water bottles. Co-written with Dan Haseltine, it feels raw, painful, and entirely necessary.
Turning outrage into something singable
"Acting Out the Outrage" might be the album’s sneakiest weapon. Moksha pleads, "Starve the fear I’m feeding/leave the mob they’re leading," while the music climbs from whisper to roar.
It mirrors the way small talk about the weather at Thanksgiving somehow spirals into a full-scale argument about politics before the turkey’s carved. Catchy, yes, but also a reminder that outrage is more contagious than Wi-Fi.
It mirrors the way small talk about the weather at Thanksgiving somehow spirals into a full-scale argument about politics before the turkey’s carved. Catchy, yes, but also a reminder that outrage is more contagious than Wi-Fi.
A tour with no chill button
Of course, an album this restless isn’t staying home. HuDost is hitting the road, with stops at AmericanaFest in Tennessee, the Ol’ Front Porch Festival in North Carolina, and a swing through Colorado. Expect harmoniums, electric guitars, and string arrangements so rich you’ll wonder how small venues can contain them. Their shows aren’t calorie burners; they’re fire hazards in the best way.
The Monkey in the Crown isn’t meant to play quietly in the background. It barges into the room, steals your fries, critiques your playlist, and somehow convinces you to thank it afterwards.