Unadulterated revivalism, at least in music, is a
dicey endeavor: Plainly regurgitating aged tropes can feel disingenuous, lazy,
or a little silly. But Old Crow Medicine Show—a country-folk-rock-bluegrass
ensemble based in Nashville—seems mostly unconcerned with bowing to
hallowed sonic ground. Instead, it synthesizes a century of acoustic
Appalachian tradition into a weird, feisty hybrid. Tennessee Pusher nods to old-time string
bands, but (much like outlaw country) favors mischief over sanctity: There's
banjo, twang, slide guitar, and a guy named "Critter," but not a whole lot of
do-good preaching.
Indeed, while these dudes did get together in New
York, Tennessee Pusher still feels like an appropriate title for an album that could
easily be heard as a concept piece about addiction: Vocalist Ketch Secor
repeatedly references cocaine, Percocet, huffing paint, "down-home,
Dixie-fried, homegrown, Alabama high-test," and methamphetamine. But the band also
trades in broad Dukes Of Hazzard stereotypes, with tracks about eating ribs,
mining coal, and the Southern gentleman's holy quadrangle ("wine, whiskey,
women, and guns"). And OCMS's scrappy, fervent playing—live, the band is
a mesmerizing mess of strings and sweat—reinvents old-time for a whole
new generation.
