Two Cow Garage
There is a place in the Southern USA where guitars aren't messed with, and the rock has a country tinge, delivered by men who sound like Jim Beam and Jack Daniel's cousin.
Two Cow Garage's third album is like Drive By Truckers more straightahead rock, a truck-stop bar band sound delivered unadorned by frills or niceties. The trio are actually from Columbus, Ohio, and they have built their songs brick by brick by playing over 200 shows a year. It's an album that sounds angry, and whose lyrics sound angry, but III is a cathartic listen - a disc best listened to loud in concert or solo in a car, preferably on a journey with no deadline.
It doesn't have Uncle Tupelo's earnestness, but it has their bite and thrash. Three is a barbecue ribs album, laced with mesquite and chilli, and there's no point getting all intellectual about it - it's not trying to be anything it's not. There aren't many better discs of its type around.
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