“Fake Natives weren’t born here, they just perform here,” Fake Natives declare in the eponymous song (of the eponymous record). Native to central Kansas, each song off Fake Natives’ debut fakes something—patriotism, courage, calm, with each sentiment undercut by a history of sadness and isolation even while the guitars evoke spaghetti westerns and Shane-like rides into the sunset.
For their second record, produced before a summer tour that took the band through the Midwest and U.S. South, Fake Natives turn toward recent history. Here, the plains of the
previous record have been covered with strip mall parking lots. The residual sadness and loneliness of the first record, however, remains the same.
“I’m a settler, and I’ll settle,” singer Dan Hornsby explains midway through Fake Natives’ debut. Settling—in place and expectation—is crucial to the band’s angle on America, a notion that becomes increasingly clear as the songs settle into you. They will build a trading post in your ears. They will colonize your heart.