In an era where genre lines are getting smudged and stories need grit to truly land, If You Ever Get to Heaven, the latest release from Portland’s Ben and the Bloodshots, arrives like a sepia-toned fever dream. It’s a record drenched in whiskey, late-night confessions, and the kind of back-alley wisdom passed between strangers at the end of a long night. This album doesn’t just toe the line between alt-folk and country noir — it builds a bonfire on it, inviting rock (in so many subgenres), pop, and cinematic soundscapes to gather 'round.

Recorded and mixed at The Hallowed Halls by Justin Phelps and mastered by Brad Boatright at Audiosiege, If You Ever Get to Heaven is a testament to the power of place and mood. From its opening moments, it’s clear this isn’t your run-of-the-mill Americana record. It’s atmospheric and intensely visual, evoking images of flickering neon signs, empty barstools, and graveyard strolls with boot heels scraping against the dirt.

Frontman Ben’s vocals are the anchor here — a weathered, expressive instrument equally capable of ghostly tenderness and ragged defiance. There’s a lived-in weariness to his delivery, as if each line has been carried around for years before finally finding a place in these songs. He’s perfectly complemented by Ashley, whose harmonies and leads drift in like echoes from a forgotten gospel choir, adding texture and spiritual heft to the proceedings.

The band itself is a force of nature. Davis’s bass work gives the songs an earthy, propulsive heartbeat, while Troy’s drums alternate between restrained shuffles and pounding, urgent declarations. Mick’s trumpet, however, is one of the album’s secret weapons. Their horn lines don’t simply adorn the songs — they haunt them, providing cinematic flourishes that make the album feel part Ennio Morricone western, part David Lynch soundtrack.

What makes If You Ever Get to Heaven so compelling is its refusal to settle into a single genre pocket. One moment you’re immersed in dusky folk minimalism, the next you’re hit with soaring rock crescendos or murky, blues-drenched breakdowns. The album balances introspection with swagger, quiet reflection with raucous, cathartic release. The band’s ability to navigate these turns without losing their through-line — a commitment to raw, honest storytelling — is what elevates the record beyond genre exercise into something singular and immersive.

There’s a strong narrative arc at play too. The album feels like a wandering soul’s journey through loss, regret, temptation, and a faint hope of redemption. Even without calling out song titles, the thematic consistency is palpable. Each track seems to pick up where the last left off, like scenes in a film, linked by mood, atmosphere, and that ever-present sense of dusk-til-dawn survival.

It’s also a masterclass in production balance. Phelps and Boatright know exactly when to let the arrangements breathe and when to let the band off the chain. The mix gives equal weight to delicate acoustic guitars and searing electric solos, to ghostly backing vocals and commanding lead lines. It’s an album made to be listened to from front to back, with each track revealing new layers upon every spin.

If you’re in Portland, catch Ben and the Bloodshots live — July 12th at Shanghai Tunnels with RedHead Darling, and August 30th at Alberta Street Pub alongside Wood Butcher and Strange and the Familiars. If this album is any indication, those shows won’t just be gigs — they’ll be experiences.

If You Ever Get to Heaven is a dusty, cinematic triumph, a record that blurs lines and burns slow. It’s the kind of album you leave on as the last patrons clear out, long after the neon’s gone dim and the night still refuses to let go. Go ahead and give this one a spin as soon as you can by clicking those links below.

Listen to “If You Ever Get To Heaven”

Like what you read? Follow our social media and playlist for the latest in independent music:

Ben and the Bloodshots deliver a haunting triumph on album, "If You Ever Get to Heaven"