Critical perspectives on this album:

"He went with them. He may have helped Christmas do it. But I don’t reckon so. I reckon that setting fire to the house was about his limit. And why he done that, if he did, I reckon even he don’t know. Unless maybe he thought that if the whole thing was just burned up, it would kind of not ever been at all, and then him and Christmas could go on riding around in that new car. I reckon he figured that what Christmas committed was not so much a sin as a mistake."

-William Faulkner, 'Light in August'

“The hard-to-peg local folk artist (and sometimes rapper) with insanely poetic lyrics and sweaty, thundering stage performances has done it again. In the past, with prior sporadic and always gritty recordings, the only way to truly experience Andy Jones was at shows. His recent release is scrubbed clean, giving us a chance to actually hear what he has to say with a huge dose of emotionally drenched vocals.

The first track is lump-in-your-throat hopeful, with ruthlessly truthful lyrics and a haunting viola cameo by Stephen Lang. 'I Don’t Love You' is an ode to all of the relationships you can’t shake but where love will never be enough, with lyrics like 'we agreed that love is an abstract/ a notion that you can’t lay flat/ and stick up on a wall/ sooner or later it falls.' With a Simon & Garfunkel feel, it’s still a danceable track. The album is split into two parts, the second being a darker take on the subject matter of the first; sort of a biographical heartbreak timeline. His therapeutic release is laced with sometimes uncomfortable accusations and admissions — there’s even an allusion to a youthful affair with an older married woman — blanketed with unreasonably good musical composition. Glean what you will, but no one can accuse the man of being boring. Two thumbs up for feels, sir.”

- Whitney Patterson, News 4U

" 'Not so Much a Sin as a Mistake' was recorded in a living room, and it shows. But the rustic charm and Jones’ intensely crafted tunes are showcased on the two-part, 11-song album.

The second half of the album is a five-part autobiographical lyrical journey from 17 to 27.

At '25,' Jones opens with this memorable line:

'Everything goes quiet, when you sit with it a little while / When you’re 25, but you feel like you’re 79. / All the world goes on, and you start to feel elastic like you’re going to snap, / and it would feel better if you did.'

The second track on the album, 'I Don’t Love You,' features vocal-layering that invokes Elliott Smith and is a brokenhearted tune reminiscent of a ’60s pop ballad with a hook that sticks in your head.

A tragic track, 'Carton of Smokes (I Will Sing ’Til You Die),' features a haunting tapestry of 'La di das' at the end after seven minutes of a heartbreaking tale. 'I will sing ’til you die,' Jones pours as the song closes.

The song is, to say the least, emotional, and I learned after listening that the song was dedicated to his late sister.

As a man who has a lost a sibling as well, it hit me hard.

Andy Jones is a humble man who makes powerful songs."

-Zach Evans, Evansville Courier & Press