Old Angel, the latest project from the Lost Dogs (Terry Taylor, Mike Roe, Derri Daugherty and Steve Hindalong) is a 15-song audio travelogue of the group's pilgrimage down Route 66— and may very well be their crowning achievement. Every song on this new record is a snapshot out the RV window. Some are blurry, some are faded, but all bear the yellowed patina of something like grace.
A wide-ranging musical palette of muscular modern rock tinged with old-timey Americana flavors reflects the ever-changing landscape as we tour the broken heartland with four master musicians and storytellers. The superlative songwriting from all four members, at times bordering on literature, covers an expansive time frame of American history from the Old West through the Great Depression to the day before yesterday. We are introduced to a diverse congregation of characters along this 2500-mile road trip: wandering Okies, homeless hobos, hope-filled Navajo children, brokenhearted waitresses and the legendary heroes of our common history. It’s an album of Polaroids, full of friends, family and otherwise unfamiliar faces, but by the end of the book, we know every story by heart.
The trip down what’s left of America’s Main Street is equal parts wonder and squalor and the Santa Monica Pier is no New Jerusalem but these boys share the adventure like a family slideshow carousel. Through one of their finest musical efforts in a career full of high notes, they help us find the joy in our journeys. Sure, the dust storms and potholes leave us weathered and sore and the gaudy kitsch almost turns nostalgia into parody but those who have ears to hear and eyes to see glimpse the ghosts of former glories around every broken bend in the old highway.
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lyrics
(Steve Hindalong)
Dave Tutt fought for Dixie pride
Wild Bill was Union loyal
They fancied one same woman
Bad blood began to boil
Tutt stole Hickock’s pocket watch
Fool hardy, whiskey bold
Tempers flared, pistols fired
Dave Tutt laid still and cold
Them were wicked guns
Bill Hickock drew
Not just one six shooter
But two
His hands were quick, son
His aim was true
Yeah, them were wicked guns
Bill Hickock drew
Bill Mulvey was a reckless lout
A killer from Missouri
Aimed his rifle at Wild Bill
Then spun ‘round in a hurry
When Wild Bill yelled, “Don’t shoot, he’s drunk!”
To no one anywhere
Mulvey caught Bill Hickock’s bullet in his temple
And died there
Them were wicked guns
Bill Hickock drew
Not just one six shooter
But two
His hands were quick, son
His aim was true
Yeah, them were wicked guns
Bill Hickock drew…
Fantastic album/CD with great instrumentation and vocals. Also an inspiration listening to the lyrics. Excellent recording quality as well.
I give this my 5 Coconuts!
Ron Ajemian
It all comes down to the message and the music. This combo package delivers on both. Get this now, what are you waiting for ??
This is The 77s live and sounding fantastic...
🌬💟💕 kubeczko