Americans have an undeniable and insatiable appetite for voyeurism. Readily feeding them hearty portions is front-man Ezra Furman, who makes no qualms about peddling the deeply personal to the public and draws no drapes between himself and an audience thanks to his pulsating, confessional songwriting style. Through his eponymous Chicago-based quartet, Ezra Furman & the Harpoons, Furman employs the same open-chest honesty that drew ire for Ginsberg’s Howl and spawned speculation of Cohen’s Chelsea Hotel as he pines for his Wild Rosemarie and recounts bouts of transience during the making of the band’s upcoming third studio LP, Mysterious Power.

Furman gallops and crashes around the stage like an asylum-bound Buddy Holly complete with endearing hiccups and frightening tics. He not only christens every tour with a nom de rock, but also titles each individual gig. Furman’s witty and effusive conversations with the audience, along with his heightened attention to the crowd’s prevailing mood and the shows named like children, creates an extremely personalized feel for every performance. The band grinds out riffs stoically and belts out harmonies spiritedly as they lay the aural ties to support the verbal locomotion of Furman as he careens and caroms about, filling the room with the boiling-hot emotional steam of a fully bared soul.

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