Buy this album on |

Inelegant lyrics, incomprehensible time changes, indecipherable artwork, commercial indifference and critical indignation. The legend of Scroat Belly won’t die, so if re-releasing this record doesn’t kill it….

Let’s just put it out there--if you don't love Scroat Belly, you’ll hate them. If you don't get their logo tattooed on your body, you won't be able to get to the record shop fast enough to sell this back. But if you fancy yourself the musically adventurous sort and you don't take a chance on one of the strangest hybrids of metal, bluegrass, country you've ever heard, then you probably should just go back to sitting quietly at your nearest open mic night listening to comfortable singer-songwriters who "speak to you."

Daddy's Farm is a journey into the Heartland of Darkness, where drugs, poverty, incest, violence and alcohol form the lifeblood that beats black and fierce in more hearts than you want to think about. Scroat Belly took that lifeblood and crafted a 16-song concept album that is 46 minutes of feeling like a bull in the chute right after that flank strap’s been pulled tight.

While metal and rock and hip-hop got together and gave us everything from Body Count, to ICP (the horror) to Jay Z and Linkin Park (ugh), no one has ever had balls enough to try that with bluegrass and metal and whatever else you can throw in the hopper. Unlike the spawn of Scroat Belly, Split Lip Rayfield, who play metal for bluegrass freaks, Daddy’s Farm is bluegrass for metalheads. This is the loudest, fastest record we’ve ever put out. It’s not music for quietly sipping green tea and reading the Sunday New York Times. A band that’ll fuck you as soon as kill you doesn’t play it for yuks.

More than a decade later, the legend of Scroat Belly remains. You told us then this record was years ahead of its time; well it's a new millennium and time for you iPod-toting slack motherfuckers to step up to the plate.

"The band's defining quality is its utter lack of allegiance to a singular style or vision. 'What the hell were these guys listening to in 1996?' one has to wonder. All in all, it's a sobering experience if you're drunk and an inebriating experience if you're sober." lawrence.com