Fourteen hands, seven voices, two guitars, a banjo, mandolin, cello, violin and drum kit. Four friends, one father, his two children and an assortment of bells and noisemakers: that’s a breakdown of Chesapeake’s The Last Bison by the numbers.
“We don’t live in a very big house, so we¹ve always been very close,” Benjamin Hardesty tells Paste Magazine, “Not just in the way family’s close close, but actually close to each other because our house isn’t big. We¹re used to interacting in small spaces, so that really doesn’t add stress or anything; it’s just more that we are on the road as opposed to being in our house at home.”
Paste describes Hardesty’s voice as “a stylistic chameleon, charging through earnest, pleading choruses until the cracks and gravel make themselves known. His intensity would work in a milieu of molds, either in the form of a tortured boy with an acoustic guitar a la Dashboard Confessional, or the kind of dark, slightly sinister and wise-beyond-his-years crower that would give Caleb Followill a run for his money. But the beauty of Hardesty’s showmanshipand that of The Last Bison at largecomes from the delicate balance between hard and soft, light and dark, old and new, tradition and breaking the mold.”
WATCH: The Last Bison “Switzerland”