Songs that crackle with the sweeping intensity of life in its totality—songs that evoke the jubilation of an early spring as effortlessly as the desolation of a Chicago winter.
Lineup of harmonica, standup bass, National Steel, washboard and tuba plants the musical acorns that have sprouted into the mighty oaks of American music.
When your head is hitting the ground; when you're picking gravel from your knees; when you've spent the night gathering up your clothes, Exile on Main Street and Ooh La La LPs she threw out the window onto the lawn the night before--then you're ready for Deadstring Brothers.
This disc scoots and swings, swoons and sighs, and leaves a greasy $20 bill on the bar as a tip. Perfect music to keep time to by banging a longneck on the bar.
Blurs the irrelevant line between punk and country and highlights the Welsh wit that marries the personal with the political.
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'.
Don’t let the title fool you, this album is all original material: old school honky-tonk grooves, hum along roots/pop finger-snappers, bluegrass foot stomps, and some genuinely hi-larious novelties.
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.
Brings the Hully Gully into the 21st century soaked with sweat, and do justice to the legacies of both Motown and Detroit Rock City---a thrashy, sexy powerhouse.
Plying the choppy sonic waves between the best aspects of the roots rock ghetto, mid-80's Minneapolis punk and the vaunted Chicago noise guitar scene.
There's even a startling cover of that long unheralded roots icon Cher ("Believe").
Within their realm of unabashed purveyors of straight, hard-edged honky-tonk, the band still manages to come off as fresh and innovative.
Soul lives below the belt, and whether you’re looking to be grinding it slow or shaking it up good, the Cobras bring it tough and tender, savage and sweet. Tied and true.
It is, simply put, the last word in tiki-inflected, spaghetti western, when's-the-Rat-Pack-showin'-up? geezer rock.