Bourbonitis Blues

The muddy work boots, anarchic stage shows and fondness for committing musical “pure butchery” of the Wacos match up with the stylish craft and classicism of Paul Burch, a Nashville songwriting treasure.

Full of soulful urgency and longing, conjuring the ghosts of mates-in-spiritual-arms from Dylan Thomas to Johnny Cash.

Stacked with a sharp lyricism and gritty fatalism that looks off the front porch for inspiration and has the locked down groove of a band on top of its game.

You can practically feel the heat from the stage, smell the smoke on your clothes, taste the beery taste of beer and let your ears bask in the un-tempered wall of sound on this raucous free-for-all

All motorcycle boots and sneers, they rode a squall of throat-grabbing feedback and Stonesy musical middle fingers. They were as much Thunders and Reed as anything country.

Buzzes with rock energy reminiscent of the proto-punk lower East Side legends like The Velvet Underground and Television, punched up with pop melodies that resuscitates a sound that never went out of style.

It's an alluring concoction of gritty, rambunctious NYC garage rock and sexy southwestern stylings. Inspired, cross-cultural pollination that is both dead on sexy and full of punkish abandon.

Full of ambition and a palpable sense of renewed determination, Zoysia leaps from the speakers and takes you on that long, strange trip.

Blurs the irrelevant line between punk and country and highlights the Welsh wit that marries the personal with the political.

A band that knows what it means to boogie. A band that you can tell likes to drink beer. A band that's going to sound good coming out of the tape player in my car. A band that plays rock music so good that if there were more of them we wouldn't need classic rock stations, we'd just call 'em rock stations.

A few thousand volts of roots rock moxie, punk disgust and country heart, and whether you're innocent or guilty you can still be sure that with this electric chair will get your attention.