A few weeks ago I took my lady friend to see Toronto’s BAD WAITRESS at Permanent Records Roadhouse in LA – extremely good night at a very chill spot with a courtyard so we could avoid the testosterone and hang out with our Canadian pals before they played. They were (predictably) fantastic loud as fukk, but…..the bar doubled as a record store, and there was a wall rack of cassettes right in front of the stage. Now, a lot of things have changed in my life over the last couple of years, but if you put a wall of cassettes in front of me, then I’m still gonna be distracted. No way I covered everything (it was dark there was a band playing) but I snagged this one because scrawled across the case in black marker I saw “STEAL THE, LOVE EE. IT’S FREE.” So look, either the band gave them away (good move) or it sucks so bad that the store can’t sell it or it just got lost in the wall rack and someone realkized that the tape has been sitting for years and no one is buying. Either way, I’m here to help and I felt like a winner when I walked out that night to rest up for a trial board the following morning (where I was also a winner). After daylight observation, my hopes were not exactly sky high – borderline MINOR THREAT-sitting-on-a-porch-in-Virginia cover vibes, but the cast here all present as mustachioed Los Angeles cool guys (this is not a diss – I’m a bald bearded middle aged man living in San Francisco, after all – it’s just how the band presents on the cover). Judgement aside, I was not at all prepared for the sounds that were waiting for me….absolutely straight dusty barn floor singer/songwriter country without a shred of irony or pretense. The hits roll off their fingers and you can practically feel your boots kick up when the guitar hits the pick up notes that lead into the solos – it’s a thing, and EXCESS EXPRESS nail it. Opening bars of “Side Hustle” are a straight rip of “Are You Sure Hank Done It This Way” so my critical ears were on alert for frauds and posers but by the time I got to “Devil’s In The Details” I was straining to make out every word so I could follow the story lines and figure out the hidden themes that simply must be lurking underneath the twang. The vocals take a couple of track to settle in, but ultimately they are what seals the deal for me because they play it straight instead of searching for something that they are not (even though at times the music kinda begs for it). Authenticity is a motherfucker, and it’s a real hard thing to fake – fortunately it doesn’t sound like these young gents are trying to be anything at all, they’re just playing some damn good country/rock songs. Headed back to LA in a couple of weeks…might stop by the Roadhouse for one of those delicious NA spicy margaritas and watch Kelsey smile and roll her eyes at me while I try to find the other nuggets hiding on that wall rack of cassettes….even if I have to pay for them.
