Dubbed “the Harlem Globetrotters of Americana” by Rolling Stone and “The Wu-Tang Clan of folk rock” by The Village Voice, Fantastic Cat is, much like pornography, better seen than described. Featuring four widely lauded singer/songwriters who trade vocals and swap instruments on nearly every tune, the band emerged to broad critical acclaim with the release of their irreverent debut, The Very Best of Fantastic Cat, which earned the group their first national TV appearance, sold out headline dates around the US and Europe, a performance at the Sundance Film Festival, and a song in the Paramount+ series Tulsa King. Two years later, they followed it up with the similarly celebrated Now That’s What I Call Fantastic Cat, which featured an appearance from Counting Crows frontman Adam Duritz, landed the band dates with Dawes and Lucius, and prompted WFUV to declare them “one of the best Americana and rock bands to tumble out of New York over the last few years.”

Now, Fantastic Cat has defied the odds—and their therapists’ strong urging—to return with their third and most-likely-to-prompt-a-lawsuit-from-the-Meat-Loaf-estate album yet, Cat Out Of Hell. Produced by the band and mixed by D. James Goodwin (Goose, Kevin Morby, The Hold Steady), the collection elevates Fantastic Cat’s trademark blend of craftsmanship and chaos to new sonic heights, capturing the freewheeling, lightning in a bottle energy of their must-see live show and channeling it into a ramshackle house party full of existential searchers, desperate romantics, and barstool philosophers.

Individually, each member of Fantastic Cat boasts their own impressive resume including appearances everywhere from the New York Times and the Tiny Desk to Bonnaroo and Cayamo. NPR said Anthony D’Amato “sings and writes in the tradition of Bruce Springsteen or Josh Ritter.” Pitchfork called Brian Dunne’s new album “wise and poetic,” declaring that “every song sounds like his life depends on it.” Paste proclaimed Don DiLego's latest record a "stunner,” and Rolling Stone hailed Mike Montali’s band, Hollis Brown, as “the soundtrack for a late-night drive through the American heartland."

Together, they form a four-headed songwriting Hydra (yes, we know the Hydra had nine heads, but this one has four, so just deal with it) that combines the lush harmonies of CSNY, the playful wit of The Traveling Wilburys, and the relentless interpersonal strife of the Eagles.