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By
the time you finish soaking in the band name, you’ve probably already got
this one accurately pegged- Zeno and the boys are Swiss crazies
plying trashy bluegrass, moonshine-ridden sickabilly, and primitive, lo-fi
rock n’ roll. Now, you may think that swamp-breath hillbilly shitkicker
music can only come from the steamy climes of Dixieland USA, and yer
probably right. However, the first line of this record is “Before I was
sick, I was drunk” and the second line is “Before I was drunk, I was high”,
and that’s close enough to an authentic redneck lament for rock and roll,
brother. Fueled by an alternately sweet and sour pedal steel guitar and the
cardboard thump-thump-thump of a stand-up bass, Mr. Tornado and his
Boney Google Brothers (named not after the search engine, I
reckon, but after a birth defect, or perhaps the tragic aftermath of a bar
fight…or maybe they just got fucked-up eyes) tear into these surprisingly
traditional sounding tunes like Aussie-tonk snarldogs the Beasts of
Bourbon with a tipsy Slim Whitman up front. “I Love It” is a
fiddle-fried hillbilly number that Elvis woulda done, if he didn’t
get all mixed up in that rock and roll nonsense. Likewise, “Liver Lover” is
“Blue Suede Shoes”, if said shoes were covered in piss and vomit. “Life’s a
Pissing Against the Wind” is all banjo pickin’ and pseudo-yodel yelping,
“Family Man” starts with “My daddy was a porno star” and sounds exactly
like a song with that opening line should, their cover of “Highway Man” is
brooding and reverential, and the dramatic death-ballad closer “Rebel” is
pure Johnny Cash misery. I know, you probably wanted jokey, but not
everything’s a fuckin’ joke, man. Zeno Tornado might be insane and
wrong in the head – his mustache certainly suggests as much- but when it
comes to country (or “Cunt-ry”, as they the back cover calls it), he’s as
dead serious as a hound dog with his snout stuck in a beehive. I dunno if
they have back porches in Switzerland or not, but they sure have big brass
belt-buckles, and Zeno’s is the biggest and brassiest of ‘em all.
Turns out, “Yeehaw” is “Yeehaw” in just about any ‘ol language.
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