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A fluid mixture of influences and identity, with tropical flavors and delicate pop sensibilities layering up with street-tough attitude for some songs, like a leather-jacketed hoodlum holding a bouquet of roses.
As the name successfully implies, this outfit is a heady blend of Chicano funk and other sources. Pumping bass lines that could drain the Baltic Sea in minutes and horn stabs that could be entered as evidence in a court of law fill out the package.
They couldn’t figure out why they kept returning. At first, the hookah lounge was a noxious hangout, bearable only for the crushed-on bartender. Then, suspicion of nicotine addiction. Finally, the realization that it was the music on the jukebox.
Yes, it’s the Drive-By Truckers, and they remain consistent to their deep Southern roots, but I had to keep checking the player to see who was sounding exactly like Dinosaur Jr. or riffing off Hall and Oates.
Someone threw a key party for a bunch of musical genres, and Americana, Rock, and Punk left together. On the dashboard radio on the way to the motel, the Old 97’s were playing.
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