I’m old enough to remember past last year. In many the same ways that folk and punk are in a group hug right now, in the late nineties and early zeros, punk and the blues (via Estrus and Crypt Records among other fine purveyors) were squaloring and swapping whiskey flasks. Some of the best shit came from the South: The Wednesdays, Quadrajets, Immortal Lee County Killers, Porch Ghouls. Rise Up Howlin’ Werewolf play two cigarette-burning to-the-filter slow rollers that are cinematically pristine, like you can see the badasses filling the dimly lit bar with smoke by a long fuse to a bomb about to explode. That’s the good sort of tension, my friends. Silk-screened and spray painted covers.