Every now and then an album from a band you’ve never heard of reaches out and gets you. This has happened for me with Doc Dailey, more recently with Arliss Nancy and, more appropriate for this review, the first Fox Hunt album.
I was basically minding my own business reading the various postings on the Postcard From Hell mailing list when I saw a post mentioning this dude’s cousin’s band and a link. As I am wont to do, I followed the link, fired up the Facebook player and went back to my internet cruisings. Two songs later I was emailing the band.
The Colorados are the kind of band I started ninebullets for. A relatively unknown band that reaches out, excites the fuck out of me, and suddenly I need an outlet to tell other people about what I’m hearing.
What I am hearing is The Coloradas. A band out of Montville, Maine, pumping out some fine string band music much along the lines of that first Fox Hunt album, Nowhere Bound, except with a more Gillian Welch-ish slant, lyrically. I once wrote that The Fox Hunt was the house band at some exit divebar somewhere on the highway between Drag The River and Lucero. Well, The Colorados are the band that closes those shows. After the kids have gone home and all that’s left are the regulars and things need to get a little quieter and a little more somber.
Overuse a side, when I tell you this album is Essential Listening. Trust me.