(Last Chance Records, 2010)
Reviewed by SoDak
As soon as I put the American Aquarium CD in the stereo (yes, the stereo), all I could do was say “Fuck me.” Instantly, I was reminded of my decade-long addiction to the music distributor Miles of Music, who closed shop over a year ago. Every couple of weeks, I would call up the fine folks there to place a big order of independent Americana music. They were my dealer, as I desired a new fix on a regular basis. Through them I discovered many of my favorite artists, such as Frog Holler, James Low, June Star, Wrinkle Neck Mules, Say Zuzu, on and on. When they shut down the operation, a void filled my life. It became harder and harder to find the artists who should have been discussed in No Depression magazine, but for some reason did not fill it pages.
So here I am listening to Small Town Hymns, the fifth release from this Raleigh, North Carolina band. A swirl of guitars, pianos, and pedal steel fill the room, as the bass the drum keep the beat. Each instrument has space to carry the song, to demand attention. I want to dance; I want to jump in the car and drive through the night; I want to weep. This band does not fuck around. The songs are direct, telling stories of struggle, love, and inevitable heartbreak. The singing is perfect for such rough-and-tumble songs that highlight the alienation that pervades the world. In the song “Brother, Oh Brother,” a soldier reflects, “Now my hands are tired and my feet are sore. I’m sick of dodging bullets from another man’s war. I’ve lost all sight of what I’m fighting for.” Being placed in such horrible conditions, the conclusion is that “war can bring out the worst in a man.” The songs ask for forgiveness, for love, and for comfort. Sorrow and disappointment often follow, in these tales. And, it is worth the risk. It makes the song.
I recently saw this band perform in their hometown. The Pour House was packed, as the band rocked the fuck out on the songs “Hurricane” and “Rattlesnake.” Caitlin Cary, of Whiskeytown fame, took the stage to sing on the latter song—“She’s got the kisses of a thousand angels and the bite of a rattlesnake.” Here’s to misadventure and more great records by this band.
At the concert, someone standing behind me tried to tickle my taint.
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