"Andy Palmer is a former New York City public defender whose three years of living and working in the city's trenches clearly provided fodder for the painful truths and ruggedness of his alternative folk-rock sound.
His distinctively gritty vocals and hard luck tales have garnered him favorable comparisons to Tom Waits, Bob Dylan, Nick Cave, Johnny Cash, and Leonard Cohen. Westword Magazine has listed his music as some of “Denver’s Best,” calling it “timeless” and “epic”. At the national level, Palmer was named the 14th best new independent artist of by Indie-music.com. Interstatelive.com says: “Voices like this have not come to the forefront of the music scene since the likes of Louis Armstrong and Tom Waits.” Jive Wired enthuses: "Andy Palmer is an amazing talent and his honest and raw vocals serve to superbly compliment his wonderful arrangements." Target Audience Magazine says: “Andy Palmer is an artist to keep an eye on.” In addition, his music has been featured in multiple independent films. Based in part on these notable successes, producer Warren Huart (Aerosmith, The Fray) hand-selected Palmer to work with and produced Hazard of the Die.
Palmer was adopted at a young age and raised in the rural northeast on a small family farm. He has spent six winter months in near solitude in a yurt in Maine. He's lived on and volunteered at a Buddhist meditation retreat for many more months of silent meditation. He is a professionally trained massage therapist, river raft guide, and a licensed attorney. His songs capture and share these experiences through a unique blend of storytelling and poetry."
Anthony Ruptak and The Midnight Friends
"You missed when time and life shook hands and said 'good luck!', for your sake I hope heaven and hell are really there, but i wouldn't hold my breath."
"All hail the dominant primordial beast." ~Alexander Supertramp (Christopher McCandless)
Singer/songwriter Sampson has the kind of 3:00am voice
that's equal parts chain-smoke and liquid vicodin. The
enclosed EP displays a weariness that, thankfully,
does not inspire weariness in the listener, but
instills a welling sense of release. Laconic vocals
brush against guitars and banjos; simple melodies
belie a complex tension. In the world of Paloma,
cadence is a key instrument—weighed as heavy as the
strum of a weathered six-string.