Your Favorite Fool

MF'n OUTLAW country. Whitey and the boys play with a muscular attack and energy that fills the album with an edge that Nashville’s misplaced or forgotten entirely.

This is some stone cold country rock, my friends. Dig out yer dad's fringed leather jacket and catch the groove

Viper of Melody is played with an old school musicianship and a stand-on-the-edge-of-the stage immediacy that rockets out of the speakers.There ain't a problem that can't be solved by his brand of stripped down, intensely rhythmic amalgam of hillbilly, roadhouse blues, and high energy honky-tonk.

A modern-day troubadour, Earle blends genres seamlessly, framing his songs in warm musical settings and creating tunes that could easily be mistaken for classics.
Melds the qualities of a short story with the lyrical acuity of excellent songs, blowing a fresh breeze across the musical gardens and dive bars of Nashville.

Shows the world that Wanda is the real deal and an all-star cast celebrates the gutsy talent of an artist overlooked for far too long.

Robbie presents lost gems by some of the unsung heroes of country music--the ones who lurk in the fringes, dark alleys and dusty attics. Covers the dark, the tragic and, of course, the humor that's so painfully missing from today's country music.

When asked to name her musical influences for this effort, Hogan rattled off a Rain Man-like list that started something like "Lotte Lenya, Charlie Rich, Howard Tate, and Ronnie Van Zant..." and went on and on, as she is apt to do.

Freely and unashamedly mixing the hearts and souls of country, honky-tonk, rockabilly, blues and whatever else gets feet to tappin' and parties to hoppin'.

Hear Hank like he's never been heard before, demonstrating a stylistic range from pure honky-tonk to cowboy jazz and swing

A near perfect melding of country and rock (but not country rock, dammit) and will get moneymakers shakin' from Bakersfield to Boston. Honky tonk stylings and indie-rock chutzpah...

Unaffected, unpretentious, unvarnished, un-sanitized, and, most importantly, un-Nashville-ized cuts from right beneath the noses of the Towers of Doom (i.e. Music Row)