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.
The simple concept of this disc was to put together a mix tape of sorts, the type of thing that Larry would have enjoyed listening to as he drove his little truck into the gloam’ with a cooler full of beer
Her languid, dreamy, smooth-as-honeyed whiskey voice will take you on a pleasing journey through the un-make believe lands of sorrow, betrayal, and emotional devastation.
Tight four-part harmonies and songs that combine a world-view that’s equal parts Carter Family and “American Chopper.”
On this album they've layered the sound up with dusty cloaks of reverb and echo and created a hillbilly noir classic. It's the Cramps, Dock Boggs, and Hasil Adkins all fronted by the hypnotizing vocals of Melissa Swingle.
You better get in the cellar 'cause there's a tornado coming and it's called In The Mud, the second record from Split Lip Rayfield.
A rowdy collection of music that exists between the clearly defined genres, nestled in the dark, nebulous cracks where punk and country and soul and pop and bluegrass and rock mix and mingle and mutate.
Kids music with a brain and that won't make the adults run screaming from the room.
The young will thrill to the sing-a-long tunes about ducks, squirrels, flies, newts and turtles, while the music geek in all of us will marvel at the dexterous harmonica and National steel guitar playing and super excellent vocals.
Ethereal, gorgeous, dreamy, and just downright satisfying.
Songs by John Cale, Procol Harem, Del Shannon, and others.
Taken as a whole, it is a dark and meditative album which also perfectly echoes a stark and melancholic setting.
Has a stripped-down, but not sparse, campfire feel full of jaunty and crushing songs of hope, desperation and heartbreak.
A sexy, smoky apocalyptic masterpiece. This one will boil your blood, raise the hairs on your arms, and tickle your monkey nerve.
Takes the punk chutzpah of Langford and meshes it with the garage savvy of the Sadies, busting out 12 tracks to rattle the cage of genre purists. Bawdy, exuberant and, at times, full of surprising pop smarts.
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.