The scene: the world’s busiest freeway. The time: 4 PM. Me: thinking about class war as another BMW cuts me off. Enter the Bassholes. No artifice. No hipster nuthuggers swaggering for a future shampoo commercial. No dilettante “oh yeah!” gospel soft serve. Just religious music without the religion. Folk music with the hippie overtones replaced by daggers. Music just made by folks. That salve at the time when you need some salvation the most. As alive and real and sturdy as an oak tree. Smokey as bad memories burning up, still stinging your eyes. Modern blues, and not in a Blues Hammer type of way, but of musicians pushing back all the bad shit, reaching over your shoulder, and flipping a happy switch. While I doubt the Bassholes will ever be televised worldwide, I know this: this is the type of music that’ll protect you. The world’s busiest freeway just gave me the time to sit and listen and realize this: what a great fuckin’ record.
–todd (Dead Canary)