O'Death Bed

There are subtle moments when the paint of molded walls become undone and the quiet waves of sweet sweet music, make sense of lifes’ nonsensical shenanigans. If there were a soundtrack to such trying times and if it were played to wasted and wanted ears on old dusty tape and set upon creaky boards for those with the gusto to punch at the impending feelings; O’Death would be the only thing on the jukebox in such a lonely honky-tonk.

From my old blog that had more to do with my depression than with Roots music..

O’death embodies exactly what this new roots musical movement [for lack of a better term] is all about: indefinable, often indescribable – not preserving or recreating but exemplifying the ethos of a long lost music, while simultaneously unwilling to pander to any of the preservationist dictum. It pushes the music forward instead of relegating it to an antique convention and treated like some glorified artifact – it’s new but old, fresh and relevant and above of all things real.

This is traditional styled music that was created by punky/arty/nerdy guys who may or may not have spent their formidable years listening to Black Flag rather than Bill Monroe [hell, I know I did.] This is not a perpetuation of recycled riffs and representations, this is innovation in wolf’s clothing – a new body for an old suit.

Knifes around the table say that their Bowery Ballroom show tonight with Dr. Dog is completely sold out, with good reason too. You should do your damnest to catch these Apocalyptic Appalachian hell revelers where ever and whenever their around.

Oh. And be sure and bring your water buckets because these cats are on fire!

They will be at NYU on April 19th & Glasslands Gallery on May 12th...