Hey, crap, it’s Monday again, isn’t it? I’m not sure what the hell I did this weekend, except for working out a couple of times and making burritos Sunday night and finishing a kind of silly thriller called The Bell Ringers, but all that’s over now and it’s time to concentrate.
I’ve got a review of Holly Golightly and the Brokeoffs Medicine County up now at Dusted which (the record, not the review) I’d pretty highly recommend…unless you’re one of those people who can’t stand even the slightest hint of country. Yeah, I used to be one of you. You might get over it. Anyway, here’s a bit.
The trick with this type of deeply traditional songwriting is to express one’s love for older forms without letting it turn to worship. Golightly, though a serious collector of old records and songs, has a knack for letting her material breathe. She brings out the rugged eccentricity in her material whether it’s archival (“Blood in the Saddle,” “Jack O’Diamonds”) , borrowed (“Murder on My Mind” from Wreckless Eric and “Escalator” from Tom Heinl) or original. She allows a certain rough-kicking country humor to break through, even in the most death-and-jesus centered of songs.
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“Forget It”
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