"Well, if it sounds like country, that's what it is. It's a country song."- Kris Kristofferson

Country music has somehow become music that you want to fuck- blame Shania, Faith Hill, and that one Dixie Chick that looks like Julia Roberts. But Bill Parker and his boys remember when shit kicker C&W was more about getting fucked- mostly by the law and Jesus and the ex-wife. Bill and the boys know all about it- Detroit'll take just as big a bite out of an honest man as Knoxville, ya know- and even though their mamas raised them to be city boy punk rockers, the Motherscratchers have embraced the hillbilly sound and lifestyle with as much authenticity as a Texan dirt farmer with a hound dog buried out back. "United We Stand" shuffles and twangs in the same dusty neighborhood as Marty Robbins and Hank Snow and Tex Ritter- and maybe Tex Perkins, if you want to get sinister about it- only they're a fair bit funnier than those fellas. I'll leave all the hilarious bad luck anecdotes for you to discover, but I should at least mention the line that actually had me laughing out loud- "God came to me in a dream, but unfortunately, I was sleeping, so I didn't hear what he said." That's what you'd call a knee-slapper, son. I know I'm cutting a wide swath here, but I don't see why Bill Parker's sarcasm-drenched hoedowns wouldn't appeal to fans of Bobby Bare just as much as Country Bob and the Bloodfarmers. I might have just lost you there, but suffice to say, although there's certainly enough songs about drinking with Jesus in rock and roll, not nearly enough of them have fiddles in 'em. That's where these cats come in. Just give them a bottle of something recently distilled, hand them an eviction notice or divorce papers, and away the Motherscratchers go, a pickin' and a grinnin', like cartoon skulls with whiskey fire eyeballs. Every song is going to end up engraved on somebody's tombstone; maybe yours. So listen close, Jasper.