I used to work with this sweet old lady named Veronica Davis. Her son opened for The Devil Makes Three at the Catalyst in Santa Cruz. It was a favor to him I guess that they asked him to open for them (enough pronouns?), and so now I will return the favor on his behalf and review this record.
The Devil Makes Three are your standard banjo-based, hardly strictly bluegrass band, if there ever were one, with an edge. “Statesboro Blues” is a good introduction to the genre if you have no clue.
This is a live album (recorded at the Mystic Theater in Petaluma), by the way, which gives you all the proof you need that this band has actual fans. Similar to Woody Allen’s “Midnight in Paris,” there’s a large segment of the population that wishes things were like they were in the perceived good ol’ days, and that same segment loves shit like this. Give “Tow” a spin and reminisce about days that probably never existed, even if your grandpappy says otherwise.
“Graveyard” makes me think of what the Eagles would sound like if they had been a little bit country. I enjoyed “They Call That Religion” even if the song is just preaching to the choir. Actually, it’s much deeper than that, but with such a polarizing title, no one will notice.
You can get jiggy with “Black Irish,” which is probably racially insensitive, but those are the risks you take with puns. Actually, it’s one of the best tracks on here.
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