Southern rock swagger, harmonica-drenched, dusty vocals of wide range and wide-legged stance kick up electrified cowboy grit like tequila-shooting Molly Hatchet.
Southern rock swagger, harmonica-drenched, dusty vocals of wide range and wide-legged stance kick up electrified cowboy grit like tequila-shooting Molly Hatchet.
It was a good idea the first time, and it’s a good idea now, although four discs worth of ’70s covers does seem to be pushing things to the saturation point.
The boys belly-flop into the deep mud-clogged river of America and belch out steel-shod blues shorn of beer rock, record collector ass-covering, and minutiae.
Sucking the ’70s succeeds where so many before have failed because the concept encapsulates such a large chunk of space and encourages bands to take chances.