There’s nothing flashy about Noble Hops, and that’s exactly the point. In “Kelso Beach,” the Western Pennsylvania outfit led by Utah Burgess doesn’t reach for stadium anthems or TikTok virality. They do something far more rare in today’s overproduced musical landscape—they tell the truth.
This is a song that lives in the real world. It’s not escapist, it’s reflective. Written during a February snowstorm in a modest cottage on the icy shores of Erie, “Kelso Beach” plays out like a personal reckoning set to a steady backbeat. Burgess doesn’t posture or perform—he simply is. A man with a guitar, a beer, and a history. And when he sings, “I sure miss you my dear,” it lands not as a hook but as a confession. That’s rock and roll. That’s soul.
The band has roots in American rock and alt-country, but don’t pigeonhole them. This isn’t nostalgia or genre cosplay. It’s the evolution of working-class rock, the kind built on experience, not image. Think early Mellencamp, sure, but also the streetwise philosophy of Springsteen and the wearied warmth of Steve Earle. Noble Hops exists in that tradition—grizzled, grounded, and gloriously uninterested in chasing trends.
The production, courtesy of Jazz Byers, is clean without being slick. There’s texture here. Byers’ organ and acoustic guitar provide color and contrast, giving the track depth without ever stepping on the vocal. The rhythm section—Johnny “Sleeves” Costa on bass and “The” Brad Hulburt on drums—does exactly what they should: they serve the song. No overplaying, no grandstanding. Just a pocket deep enough to swim in.
What makes “Kelso Beach” resonate isn’t any particular sonic element—it’s the message. Burgess doesn’t shout; he doesn’t need to. He speaks plainly about love, friendship, identity, and the quiet strength of community. In the chorus—“my life’s been better… with those I choose”—he offers something that feels radical in its simplicity: gratitude. Not the saccharine, Hallmark kind, but the real stuff. The hard-earned kind that comes from long nights, close calls, and people who stick around when the storm hits.
There’s a line in the final verse that sums it all up: “The pressure is constant… but truth it is constant, it can’t be denied.” That’s Noble Hops in a nutshell. They’re not flashy. They’re not chasing radio. They’re playing music because it means something. And in a time when so much of what passes for rock feels empty and performative, that makes them not just necessary, but urgent.
“Kelso Beach” doesn’t try to blow the roof off. It just opens the door and invites you in. Sit down, have a beer, listen close. There’s wisdom in the weariness, and a whole lot of heart behind every note.
–David Marshall
