Irony is commonly defined as incongruity between what might be expected and what actually occurs. I chanced upon Alec Gross’s album, What Lasts, serendipitously enough—through a casual recommendation of a friend. This endorsement aside, I sat down to listen with cynically low expectations. College had, after all, basically inured me to Indie rock mediocrity. Little did I know this album I nonchalantly slid into my CD player would remain ensconced there for weeks. I pressed the play button…and let the irony wash all over me. The conciseness and maturity of What Lasts belies the fact that Gross is only twenty-three. On this, his third album, he has honed his unique sound, aptly described as “Whisky Rock”—a fusion of rock’n roll, country, folk, and soul. Mr. Gross’s influences run deep—from the country ache of Heartbreaker era Ryan Adams and early Wilco, to mid 60’s acoustic Dylan—he recalls his idols while maintaining originality and avoiding imitation. At every turn, the album display’s an uncanny combination of exuberance, integrity, and heartache. Antonya Nelson once praised writer, Jack Driscoll, for “his relentless pursuit of honesty” in his stories. It is a similar indefatigable pursuit of honesty in his music that sets Gross apart. He is at his best, lyrically, when dealing with lost lovers, broken promises, and auspices relationships gone awry. He broaches these topics in the most explicitly personal ways. In “Cracks” Gross laments, “You’ll go/I know;” a sort of wistful recognition that his lover won’t stick around long. “Blue-Ribbon Baby,” one of the record’s standout tracks, involves a cold, calculating woman described as a “credit card diva” with a “manual heart,” more content to fake being in love than admit being alone. There’s more going on here, though, than displaced anger. Gross is deft at projecting the hurt inward. His songs often contain glimpses of self- deprecation and genuine pain that endear the listener: “You’re a blue-ribbon baby/Always win first prize/There’s a blue-ribbon sparkle in your blue- ribbon eyes/I’m a last place loser/No a comeback kid/Just a paperback Junkie, a gateway addict.” Gross is an artist unafraid to bare his soul. The result he achieves, more often than not, is an honesty as beautiful as it is painful. What Lasts displays an incredible amount of versatility. “Cracks” is an up-tempo pop song, “Jericho,” a honky-tonk rocker. The gorgeous, plaintive ballad “Right Between My Eyes” shows Gross’s impressive vocal ability (and recalls Dylan’s “I threw it all away.”) On “Poker,” a slow, country-laced number, Gross croons with the emotional immediacy of a guy singing to the door that’s just been slammed in his face. He assumes a role of whiskey- swilling despondency that leaves him desperate for solace: “Oh, I’ve been drunk for weeks/It’s the only way I can dream ‘cause I sure can’t sleep/Oh, I’m broker than hell/Not just my pockets but my heart as well.” The rocker “Rearview,” replete with distortion and a nice guitar riff rounds out the album and seems to mark an emotional catharsis and sense of hope. The singer sheds his troubles and drives off to better days: “I can get a pretty good look at you/In my rearview/So let your hair hang down/Let it rest against your breast/ Don’t let your feet touch the ground/And don’t blush blue.” Gross wears many hats on this album—and he wears them all quite well. The album’s finest song, “Rockland County” is a perfect exemplar of Whisky Rock. In it Gross sings, “No, well, I’m just ordinary/No, I’m no sight to see/I can’t break the hearts of lovers/No disciples will follow me.” The quality of this record coupled with the seemingly bright future ahead of Alec Gross leads me to believe that, someday soon, he will be breaking a lot of hearts and will have many faithful disciples believing in his Whisky Rock gospel.