No one knows how Frank Hurricaine got so good. The way he plays guitar makes it sound like he spent long hours in his bedroom as a teenager, teaching the strings to talk, so they could tell their own story, a frenzied dystopian epic of the American dream. Stories of hidden America populate his songs, like the thugs themselves from the Creole mafia who torment him in an abandoned peanut hut in one song. Messages come out of nowhere, and they are mysterious. Sometimes they don’t reach you until you are asleep at night, and your nightmares become parables. Hurricaine played last night in the cozy living room of The JP Drive-In, and his lovely masculine voice have this all a tone of comforting humor, but these are crazy, heady trips he’s taking you on. Hurricaine is about music changing people, radically, and once you’re in there’s no coming out, you’re with him for a joy ride in a hearse limo into the heart of the spiritual underworld.