06.03.14

July 25 : OBN III’s Cannot Resist The Smell Of The Sawdust (And They’re Playing Beerland, Too)

Posted in Austin, record collector disease, Rock Und Roll at 4:11 pm by

(the following is an unpaid advertisement for a July 25 event at Beerland)

Websites including but not limited to American Songwriter Noisey, NPR.com, and Meet-an-Inmate.com all lost their shit over the new OBN III’s album, ‘Third Time To Harm’ (Tic Tac Totally) and with good reason ; it’s far and away the heaviest and most powerful OBN III’s record to date. Months have elapsed since this band has darkened Beerland’s doors — odd are very slim they’ll be anything other than ready-to-slay on this occasion.

Meet Your Death pose the question, “what happens when you combine wiley vets John Schooley (guitar) & Walter Daniels (harmonica) with the modern all-star rhythm section of Matt Hammer and Harpal Assi?”  How the fuck should I know?  The show hasn’t happened yet. Look, if you want Nostradamus to write these blurbs, by all means text hi and see what’s up. I’m under enough pressure as is.

Leo Durocher famously said “nice guys finish last”, but I’m pretty sure he never met Church Shoes.  He did, however, have a cameo in the best-ever episode of “Mr. Ed” (above). Is that an acceptable trade-off for never hearing the exceptional rock’n’roll craftsmanship of Austin’s favorite Indiana transplants? Actually, that’s a really tough call, but it’s not a choice you’ll have to make in your lifetime.

We’re in the midst of a golden age for new-ish Austin trios, the likes of which historians will some day attempt to understand via carbon dating (or the archives of the city’s many excellent, well-written music blogs, in particular, the one edited by Norman Wanklord).  Trouble is, you won’t be able to rely on these well-researched accounts because you’ll most likely be a pile of bones buried somewhere deep in the ground.  Instead, you could turn up early for Zach, Taylor & Rhys, aka the fantastic BORZOI and do everything possible to get your mind off the fact that the clock’s ticking and you’re fucking Soylent Green.

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