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This
CD sounds like cool shoes. Like when you just got a new pair of cheetah skin
Creepers at Trash and Vaudeville down in the village, and now you’re
struttin’ around the avenue in them, still buzzed on the new suede smell and
looking for action. And whenever you see somebody you know, they stop and
go, “Wow, man, cool shoes!” and you act all gracious and say, “Oh, thanks!”
but inwardly you’re smirking and going, “Yeah, motherfucker, I know
their fuckin’ cool. Now stop breathing on them.” Which is to say it’s
instrumental hot rod/ spaghetti western stuff full of twangy guitars and
Mexican stand-off horns and gunfighter ballads. The welcome absence of some
mouthy hipster up front allows you to invent wild new strategies and
plotlines in your head, great dusty epics with hard-eyed cowboys in Camaros
and red, red suns and muy atractivo senoritas dancing on bar tables and
yelling “Ole!” Far fuckin’ out, Jack. So, just who are these unmasked men?
The Rambling Ambassadors was formed on a dare (or so the story goes)
by Huevos Rancheros guitarist Brant Cooper, who put the band
together and wrote all the tunes in 3 weeks just to show up a local promoter
who said he couldn’t. Then he pulled out his big six shooter and shot that
bastard dead under the hot noonday Canadian sun. Yep, that’s just what he
did. So don’t fuck around, unless you wanna be next. Viva los Ambassadoros!
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