It makes absolute sense that DIY punks—the ones born and raised on traditional country—after the initial fast, angry spurt, and facing a world that’s neither improving nor a head that feels right screaming the songs of youth, turn back to their roots. Most punks know abandonment. And, culturally, the world of Hank Williams Sr., Merle Haggard, and Johnny Cash, has been left solely as a fallow graveyard in favor for country that sounds like it’s selling toothpaste for Wal Mart. Not only do the Haints capture the ghosts of old greats, they’ve placed those ghosts in their hearts and at your feet. So, even if you don’t know that The Haints screen-print their own records, book their own tours, and help out a bunch of people, this 7” still stands up by itself as a testament: that old shack of traditional country is being candlelit once again by society’s discards who’re playing songs that give me chills.