We miss the days of "Cow Punk".
So, goddamn, indeed.
The Goddamn Gallows swing wildly around a churning shit-kicker riff, replete with accordion and washboard, by cracky, and bring the cow patties to the proverbial pasture. Loud like a sheared sheep, and full of drunken piss'n'vinegar, punk never sounded so pickup-truck ready. Or hobo-ready, flung pack on flat bed, hand reaching up with wheels chug-a-lugging underneath. The Goddamn Gallows are the bee's knees and a righteous holler.
The Goddamn Gallows: Pass The Bottle (mp3)
The Goddamn Gallows: Smokestacks and Silos (mp3)
Please support something local and independent. Really, at this point, anything will do. Local businesses are falling all around us.
