The Felice Brothers seem to have a good time spinning out bizarre, wistful Bob Dylan-esque songs about deals gone wrong and inevitably bad relationships. The sloppy fun of “Frankie’s Gun!” makes me wish I’d been in that studio, banging on something, making some noise as the tape rolled. Made up of three actual brothers from the Catskills — Simone, Ian and James Felice — plus “a 19 year old called Christmas,” according to the press info, these guys don’t mind playing a wrong not or two. It’s the thought that counts, right? And their thoughts seem as pure and sincere as a streetcorner singer in the middle of summer, telling everyone how it is.
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