This record isn’t just music—it’s an experience. Imagine if a psych version of Father John Misty soundtracked a fever dream of New Orleans, mixing stardust and Mississippi mud with rhythms that’ll make your grandmother rethink her life choices. That’s “Stray Dogs,” the album that turns chronic pain into chronic creativity.

You think you know New Orleans? Think again. “Stray Dogs” is your skeleton key to the city’s most elusive secrets, rewriting the sonic map as you know it. Donohue’s songs were born out of a personal battle with chronic pain—pain so severe it would make Keith Richards wince. From functional medicine to microdosing, Connor tried it all, and the result is an album that’s part primal scream, part ode to resilience, and completely captivating.

The opening track, “Wasteland,” tips its hat to T.S. Eliot, but with a groove that would make even the most straight-laced English professor want to dance. Then there’s “Sciatica,” a raw nerve of a song that refuses to be background noise. Every track is a new discovery, like an archaeological dig into a city that’s equal parts magic and madness.

Donohue describes “Stray Dogs” as “genreless,” and he’s right. It’s like Dr. John and Tom Waits had a musical brawl, and instead of blood, this album spilled out. As a listener, you’re not just hearing it—you’re excavating it, unearthing new layers of meaning and sound with each play.

Take a few moments to listen. If you hear what we hear, get in touch. But be warned: Side effects may include spontaneous road trips to New Orleans, a sudden craving for stories that start with “You’ll never believe what happened last night,” and the ability to see music in color.

Connor Donohue - Elephants
Out September 6th
Listen here