His MySpace page reads like that of a scrappy Brooklyn any-kid who makes music for his friends from the unassuming far corner of his childhood bedroom, next to a pinup of Tom Petty and a wide-eyed girl he might be in love with. The self-tweeted “Rambling Man” doesn’t have that many “friends,” a mere 3,968, is still grateful for small NYC club gigs, and cites both Biggie and Pavement as influences, but his music begs a much bigger bio than his profile suggests. One listen to “Buriedfed,” from his eponymous 2008 debut will destroy you. It’s the best of Dylan’s rawness, the starkness of Hemingway, and reminds me of the hometown lyrical longing and driving guitar momentum that is so inherently Springsteen. Up until now, I haven’t come across a voice that so accurately portrays the hope and fear that is the underbelly of change defining our generation. Like a memoir unfolding in real time, playing parallel to us, Miles is your spot on soundtrack. 
On Summer of Fear, produced by TV on the Radio’s Kyp Malone, and a little help from the boys of Grizzly Bear, out October 20th on Saddle Creek Records, Miles Benjamin Anthony Robinson sings us a dark, dark story of the anxiety that accompanies the risk of dreaming in uncertain times. A hazardous balladeer compared to his peers, Robinson swims all the way out, far past the buoys, through scratchy, shaking whispers and blood curdling screams looking for answers to questions most of us are afraid to ask, doing things we know we shouldn’t, just to remind himself of the feeling, a lyrical cutter trying to make a mark deep enough that he never forgets.
The Summer of Fear is the story about the summer of 2007, when Robinson, beat up and reckless, mounts the greatest fight of his life tackling the catastrophe of heartbreak, the saltiness of something new, the satisfaction of anger, and the hope of redemption. Robinson say’s “Listening to it now…It’s like someone banging on a door really hard, until they start throwing their shoulder into it….then someone on the other side simply opens it and on the next lunge the solicitor goes hurtling across the threshold. It’s well produced, but there’s a lot of frustration and rage on the record. Every song has a point of catharsis.”
“Summer of Fear Part 2″ is easily the most arresting track on the album beginning with a carefree little whistle that you swear you’ve heard a thousand times, that you know you’ve hummed before is anchored by a riff as melancholy and infinitely as sad as a great Pumpkins song, Robinson makes a plea for what was, desperate for the memory. “I said knock-knock” a voice in the way back calls, “who’s there?” Robinson screams, “You said you’d never forget…you said you’d never forget.”
Surrounding lyrics and Robinson’s strum is a complex orchestration to the music with hidden whispers, fuzzy guitars, warming choirs, and miscellaneous trinkets of sound, creating an audio scrapbook that will last forever even if the memory can’t. While The Summer of Fear may have been his biggest battle to date, I have a feeling Miles Benjamin Anthony Robinson has quite a few more fights left in him and I’ll be damned if I miss another.
Tracklisting:
01. Shake a Shot
02. Always an Anchor
03. The Sound
04. Hard Row
05. Trap Door
06. The 100th of March
07. Summer of Fear pt. 1
08. Death by Dust
09. Summer of Fear pt. 2
10. Losing 4 Winners
11. More than a Mess
12. Boat
