ATO
Can we stop calling Lucero a country band already? More appropriately this is girlfriend-approved rock for the Bison B.C. fan. You know the type: He’s the dude who unabashedly rocks aviators a beard and trucker cap — perhaps he never got the memo that Jackass happened a decade ago. He dates a girl who patterns herself after a generic ’50s pinup model. (“Back when curvy women were called ‘beautiful’” she offers.) He rocks Jack Daniel’s tees but prefers Jameson. He wears Blundstones but works at West 49. His bookshelf is stocked with zombie survival guides; he lists his apocalypse readiness under the “skills” section of his resumé. He attends Sled Island for the strict purposes of catching The Sword at The Palomino. His Facebook photo has a hand-claw gnarled to the heavens lips perpetually snarling “SLAYEEERRRRR!” He does not listen to Slayer.
I repeat: You know this guy. (Any bros reading this? Trying to figure out how to send it to everyone now that Megaupload’s gone. Limewire? Audiogalaxy? KaZaa?)
So like let’s not kid ourselves: Townes Van Zandt fans don’t listen to Lucero. Nah this is safe my-horizons-have-expanded fare for dudes who dig fake biker metal — perhaps it’s because singer Ben Nichols sounds like an incontinent Kurt Cobain. And if Lucero’s progression from sad-dude twang to Springsteen ball-coddling to white-boy Motown catches on they’ll be the reason dad-rock became acceptable for 3 Inches of Blood’s roadie. As for Women & Work ? SLAYEEERRRRR!
