If one doesn’t know Whiskey & Co.’s heritage, doesn’t read any of the lyrics, doesn’t pick up on a single clue, that dummy could say, “Man, I hate country. Why’re you wasting time on this? My mohawk’s droopin’ over here.” Let me lay down a basic fact. DIY punk in the 2010’s is what punk’s been promising for decades: a lifelong lifestyle. (Not a clothes-style or hairstyle or a simply purchasable-as-a-jumpsuit commodity.) And I relish the fact that dyed-in-the-wool, not-getting-younger punks are fully embracing other traditional musical forms without discarding their ideals or the essence of rebellion, fun, broken hearts, and questioning. And Whiskey & Co.’s no awkward or embarrassing hybrid country-punk (or cowpunk), stapling loud guitar sounds onto everything. If Waffle House America wasn’t Wal-Mart glassy-eyed for ball-draggin’ obesity-inducing pop country, Kim Helm and the boys’d be on jukeboxes next to Patsy Cline, Johnny Cash, and the Pine Hill Haints from shore to shining shore. They ain’t, and that’s partially why I’m continuing to celebrate them on this end.
–todd (No Idea)