Smith Westerns
Dye It Blonde
Fat Possum
Some days I feel like I'm breaking my back sifting for gold here when what's needed to cure my prospector's fever is to head back into town, settle up to the bar, and proposition the first working girl without a cold sore on her face. Sometimes you get to town, though, and all that's left are hairless, powder-skinned boys in search of parental figures. And so it goes with the Smith Westerns who burst into the foreground of the indie rock scene like the poxy child pirates from William Burrough's homosexual planet-opera
series. They serve up some T Rex style jams here that work so well I bet Bolan would have been flattered, that is, if he could have put the powder down and pursued his other interest, himself.
The first track here made its way to the interweb shortly after their previous album back in Sept. 2009. Needless, to say, I dig them both. I get into the glam, I do. Right now I'm groping around on the floor beneath my bed hoping my hand will settle on that familiar crinkled paper bag where I stash my silver headband and my sniff-and-feel-good glue. Ride on, diamond warriors.
Smith Westerns :: Weekend
Smith Westerns :: Imagine, Pt. 3
And in case you thought we didn't love and care for you, suffering some momentary disorientation without our friendly hand to hold, here's the video Fat Possum laid out last month. The boys take a stroll through the woods with some axes, and then off to Hot Topic to buy some yin yang jewelry. Good times.
We're your mommy and daddy now, little ones. Now get in the car.