Otis Lotus. America’s realest voice boasts the best kind of genius: Luck. Along with the unlimited type of patience often called laziness, he is basically just as good as Lady Gaga, but totally different and completely unknown. This is the essence of Mr. Lotus’ gift to you–you get to discover him, like an old missing friend you never knew you had, or wanted to know, he appears suddenly in your face, singing songs, whether you had the foresight to request entertainment or simply forgot. Even if you didn’t even know you needed it. Like falling through thin ice, suddenly, in the best possible way.

Call his brand of Americana what you will: folk, rock, punk or soul. Pathologically observant, Otis gathers from everywhere, often stealing, curating and exposing moments and ideas, darkness and light alike, creating lasting music for everyone. Drawing upon literary tradition, living by his wits, Mr. Lotus weaves melody and lyrics into narratives that penetrate human mystery, exposing and probing the deepest wells of collective mystery. His fresh songs strike familiar chords in new ways–at once unsettling and soothing in the starkness of their truth and the subtlety of their content. A self-taught prodigy, Otis effortlessly owns tradition, adding aptly to art’s emerging conversation, fluent in the old tongue, studied in the ancient traditions, but reinventing himself as the world unfolds, adapting, adjusting, morphing and moving, yet always exactly the same.