Mad Johnny Modell’s life has been anything but predictable. From growing up in the shadow of an NFL empire to forging his own path in the music industry, his journey has been one of reinvention and resilience. Now, with Strange Angels, the debut album from Casa Del Sol, he steps fully into the artist’s role, crafting a record that feels like a warm embrace from the golden era of folk and psychedelic rock.
There’s something deeply nostalgic about Strange Angels, yet it avoids feeling like a mere homage. It’s the kind of record you want to listen to in one sitting—preferably on vinyl, with the lights low and a bit of incense burning—because it plays out like a story, one where love, loss, and longing intertwine with flashes of lighthearted joy. Sonically, it leans on the warmth of analog textures, from swirling organ lines to subtle jazz-inflected chord progressions, all wrapped in Modell’s unhurried, slightly weathered voice.
Let’s dig into these tracks a little deeper.
Track-by-Track Reflections
1. Sing My Song
The opener immediately sets the mood—woody acoustic strumming, a gentle but steady groove, and Modell’s inviting vocal presence. The lyrics feel more like an artist reintroducing himself to the world. It’s a song about finding one’s voice again, and as a listener, you can’t help but lean in.
2. Love In a Time of War
One of the album’s standouts, this track feels expansive and intimate at the same time, like a letter written from a battlefield but whispered between lovers. The organ swells and tremolo-laced guitar licks give it a gospel-meets-psychedelia feel, reminiscent of Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks era. The rhythm section plays with subtlety, never overpowering the song’s emotional weight. When Modell sings about witnessing beauty in a world that often feels broken, it resonates deeply.
3. Realize
This one takes a more eclectic approach, with an inspired percussion section that gives the track a rolling, hypnotic energy. The groove feels meditative yet restless, built around a resonant, repetitive rhythm that holds the listener’s attention without ever feeling monotonous. There’s a certain late-night quality to it, like the kind of song you stumble upon at 2 a.m. and don’t fully appreciate until the third or fourth listen. It’s not trying to grab you immediately—it lingers in the background, waiting for the right moment to pull you in.
The vocal phrasing dances playfully around the beat, at times feeling loose and conversational, other times leaning into a subtle, almost mischievous cadence. There’s a whimsy to the way Modell delivers the lines, as if he’s telling a story that he’s just as amused by as the listener. The jazzy piano floats in and out, never dominating but always making its presence felt—gentle but impactful, like a knowing glance across a smoky bar. Each note feels carefully placed, adding just enough color to the song without overwhelming its fluid, free-spirited essence.
4. Cold Water
Pulling no punches, Cold Water is one of the album’s most immersive tracks, unfolding like a slow-moving river—serene on the surface, but with an undeniable undercurrent pulling beneath. It carries a rolling, weaving energy, as if the listener is drifting downstream, watching landscapes shift and evolve along the way. The steady rhythm section acts as the riverbed, grounding the song’s movement, while Modell’s voice floats above like a weary traveler recounting his journey.
The aching, reverb-drenched guitar line flows in and out like ripples on the water, sometimes barely noticeable, other times swelling with emotion, mirroring the push-and-pull of uncertainty that the lyrics explore. The interplay between the instruments feels natural and unhurried, as if the band is giving the song room to breathe, letting each note stretch out and settle into the atmosphere.
Lyrically, Cold Water is steeped in themes of redemption and renewal, capturing the moment just before transformation—when someone stands at the edge of something vast and unknown, hesitant to take the plunge. There’s a vulnerability in the way Modell delivers his lines, as if he’s singing not just about change but about the weight of choosing to embrace it. It brings to mind the introspective melancholy of Nick Drake, particularly in the way it balances its sorrow with a quiet kind of hope.
The song never builds to a dramatic climax; instead, it ebbs and flows, leaving the listener suspended in its current. It’s haunting, but not in an overwhelming way—more like a memory that resurfaces in the stillness of night, lingering long after the last chord fades.
5. Leaves and Trees
One of the most poetic and heartfelt tracks on the album, Leaves and Trees feels like autumn itself—crisp yet wistful, nostalgic but never sentimental. There’s an earthy, reflective quality to the song, like watching golden leaves swirl in the wind or feeling the first real chill of the season settle into your bones. The string arrangements in the background add a gentle orchestral swell, subtly lifting Modell’s meditative lyrics about the passage of time and the inevitability of loss, but never overwhelming the song’s delicate balance.
Modell’s vocal delivery here is striking—at times weathered and gravelly, evoking the weary storytelling of Tom Waits, yet in other moments, it swells with a theatrical flair reminiscent of Hawksley Workman. There’s a performative aspect to the way he stretches certain words, almost like an actor on stage leaning into a soliloquy, giving the song a heightened sense of drama without ever tipping into excess. It’s a balance between intimacy and grandeur, as if he’s both whispering secrets into the void and proclaiming them to an unseen audience.
It’s the kind of song that you don’t just listen to—you feel it. The weight of its words settles in slowly, carried by an arrangement that never rushes, never forces emotion, but simply lets it unfold.
6. Adorable Corruptor
This is where things get playful, and I appreciate the shift in tone. The “children of the night” spoken intro and auto-tuned wolf cries are knowingly theatrical, but the bluesy backbone keeps the song grounded. It’s clear that Modell had fun with this one, and his mischievous energy is contagious. Think of it as the album’s little detour into a smoky, neon-lit cabaret, where romance and danger dance hand in hand.
7. These Roads
This track carries an undeniable wanderer’s spirit. There’s a bit of Bob Dylan in the phrasing, a bit of Tom Waits in the imagery. The organ swirls, violin accompaniment and earthy percussion give it a dreamlike quality, as if it’s a song meant to be played while watching the world blur past from a train window. Modell’s reflection on his Irish heritage adds another layer of longing and discovery.
8. Mystery Night
This is where the album fully embraces its improvisational spirit. The interplay between the musicians feels instinctive—loose yet deeply in sync, like a conversation that ebbs and flows effortlessly. In the instrumental bridges, the raw, bluesy lead guitar snarls and weaves through the mix, the rolling bassline pulses like an undercurrent, and the keyboards swirl around them, each instrument pushing and pulling in a way that feels both spontaneous and intentional, like old friends riffing off one another, finishing each other’s sentences.
Lyrically, the song drifts through hazy recollections and fleeting moments, its meaning feeling just out of reach, like a half-remembered dream. The words gather weight as the song unfolds, gaining emotional intensity as it builds toward the chorus and especially in its final moments. There’s a bittersweet pull to it—wistful, searching, yet undeniably alive. It’s a fitting sentiment for a song with this title, capturing that strange magic of something beautiful slipping through your fingers before you even realize it was there.
9. Strange Angels
Closing with just voice and acoustic guitar, Strange Angels strips away the layers and leaves us with something raw and deeply personal. It’s almost lullaby-like, but with a weight that suggests a lifetime of experiences distilled into something simple. It reminds me of the way albums used to end—not with a grand statement, but with a quiet moment that lingers long after the final chord fades.
Final Thoughts: A Timeless Sound with Room to Grow
There’s a lot to love about Strange Angels. It’s a record that feels lived-in, like a well-worn leather jacket passed down through generations. Modell and his bandmates clearly have an innate chemistry, and that connection makes these songs feel effortless. The way they weave together folk, blues, psychedelia, and jazz speaks to their deep musical roots, and it results in an album that feels warm, organic, and refreshingly unpolished.
That said, I do think the album could have taken a few more risks. There’s a familiarity to some of the arrangements—like Modell is drawing from his influences more than carving out something distinctly his own. It’s a beautiful homage to a specific era, but there are moments where I wished for a surprise, a sharp left turn that would shake things up a little more.
Still, as a debut, this is an incredibly promising start. Modell has already hinted at having six more albums worth of material, and if Strange Angels is any indication, he’s got plenty of stories left to tell.
