Citigrass, with its distinctive brand of Jamgrass, has delivered the goods from both sides of the coin with Serpent in the Grass. This is a well–crafted CD, punctuated by exceptionally well–written songs, resulting in not so much a long, strange trip… as much as a delightfully surprising one.

“Starin’ at the Moon” kicks off the disc with some high and lonesome 4–part harmony that quickly evolves into good ol’ barn burnin’ fun. “Harder Faster” continues in much the same vein, but begins to suggest that Citigrass “ain’t just another bluegrass band” as some extended fiddle, dobro, and even bass solo jams make their debut. The momentum doesn’t let up as the band careens into “Brooklyn Bound.”

 “Serpent in the grass,” the title track, is where Sandy Israel throws caution to the wind. A jazzy bass–solo, slinky spoon playin’, and a Dr–Seussical–call–to–prayer accentuate the edges of this sonic dreamscape. “Grey Fox” is a spectacularly soothing and beautiful follow–up to the epic adventure of Serpent in the Grass. A rhapsodic tale of Civil War sadness, this track loudly announces the depth of song–writing talent embedded in Citigrass. This is simply a great song.

Kenji Bunch, Citigrass’ fiddle player, serves up the instrumental “Walkabout.” It’s a well–crafted celtic–flavored instrumental which leaves. “The ballad of Jeff Van Gundy”—a plaintive tale of the former NY Knicks head coach, is funny and tongue–in–cheek. “Crooked beaked bird” is a heartbreakingly beautiful song. A Nashville–quality modern country tune with soaring vocals and paintbrush lyrics, this is another songwriting gem on this CD.

 “Citigrass,” “Jamgrass,” “Alternative bluegrass…” whatever you want to call it.. the tunes of Serpent in the Grass are all tantalizingly good … and all extremely well–written. As this is just the sophomore release of Citigrass, I can only assume that their songwriting chops are in their infancy. As they grow and mature, there’s a lot to look forward to.  Whether your music–loving avatar of choice be a redneck or a hippy, Citigrass “knows you”.

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Parlor Walls, the newest offering from country and rock chanteuse Kara Suzanne, starts with a somber calling to her love. Light guitar and steel accompany Suzanne's strong and wooing voice. Even when whispering, her lyricism and vocal styling command the listener's attention and emotion. Each song on Parlor Walls has been handcrafted in its choice of instrumentation. Her tunes vary in style, not just between blues and country, but her talented band has mastered many styles within these well–defined genres. The album builds through the first half to the title track, when looming organ and distorted guitar push the energy levels and tempo of the entire composition. "Doses" has that traditional picking country guitar with a shuffle beat. "General Henry" shows more of a rock side to Suzanne and troupe. The Hawaiian driven "A Little Spin" continues to show of the bands range and capability. With a variety of tone and technique fronted by a confident and affluent tongue, Parlor Walls has something for the most captious listener.

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Four Limbs, has a coherent, pleasant texture. Soft and gentle, with a vaguely thoughtful air. The banjo can be hypnotic, the voice soothing, so you just enjoy the ride.

The first song, "Rivers and Tides" ("wash the stones out in the early morning") begins with a trickle of a sound from fiddle & banjo placing one at a quiet shore. The song then gains momentum, becomes busier, resembling more of a riverboat relationship to water, perhaps a bit of gambling and hustling included, as denoted by "overdrive" on the guitar solo.

"Boatman" is the slowest of the plucky EP. A contemplation of fate, a melodic build up, and a nice ethereal saw solo all reads as some sort of passing over the crest of the journey. Echoey vocals in the last verse suggest a romantic shout back across the water from the island afar, or from a shipwrecked ghost, a classic, oft told tale over the centuries.

"Faceless Weaver" offers a nice backbeat and vocal harmonies. Another song related to fate and the wearing of it.

The last song is "Christmas Eve". The pacing and descriptions in the lyrics alluded that the song would be about the Donnor party or something, but in the end it was someone going to grandma's for Christmas. This final song builds to a bit more crescendo, rounding out the group nicely. Music is about whether you enjoy the texture or not, and Four Limbs is quite enjoyable. Frankenpine has fine tuned banjo to a more sophisticated degree, and the vocal harmonies are quite nice. A nice package. Look out for Frankenpine at a venue in your neighborhood.

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Weary Things is the strong sophomore album from Brooklyn Country member Andy Friedman and the Other Failures, produced by Paul Curreri for City Salvage Records: well–produced while also stripped–down, self–aware without pretention or smarminess, setting a mood without trying to hit you over the head with its own brilliance. It's city–country without the rhinestones and neon cowboy hats, evocative of white lines and truck stop motels, drawing on blues and country and country blues and rock and country blues rock, deftly avoiding the lowest common denominator...Most of the songs seem written in exile, not just for a place but for a time, possibly of his own invention...transplanted roots music....In any case, he seems to have known what he was aiming for, and to have hit it...

In "I Miss Being Broken", he misses "counting fingertips of winter trees, busting memories like stone..." It's slow and lonesome nostalgia for places where hunger and songs come from. Fractured harmonies kick in and he's not alone anymore, but just visiting places that put him on the road to where he is now, happy, with all that to look back on... "Weary Apology" is another having grown–up look back on what got you where. It's okay to get older, more comfortable, and reminiscing is okay, too. "Road Trippin'" is a smooth blues with clear, understated lead guitar. His vocal growl lets rip and this song rocks. "Idaho" is a love song for the road. What passes for the exotic to a Brooklynite, "The land of the Sinclair gas station signs", makes one wonder what image would stick in the mind of an Idahoan walking down Flatbush Ave. We're all going to miss Freddy's Backroom, Hank's Saloon, and all the other places where local musicians and local locals gather and play music and drink and drink some more...Some will hang on for a while, while some are destined to be plowed under and paved over and consigned to memory. Adulthood comes along, and just as "you don't argue with someone who's got his finger in your eye," it's nice to be able to visit, in person, these places before they've all disappeared. The title track is happy and comfortable in resignation which isn't really resignation, the lovely mundane and tired, sweet routine. It's sad and lonesome and pretty and it's all the things it's okay for us to love without having to explain them away.

Memphis, Nashville, Bakersfield, and also Brooklyn–Country

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J.D. Duarte might be part of the Brooklyn country scene, but the twanging trail between the native Texan's Northeast nest and his San Antonio roots bleeds through in a big way on the five–song Southbound Train EP. The first thing you notice is Duarte's big, burly baritone, standing tall atop spare–but–striking arrangements that are equal parts outlaw country and honky tonk, but he's no strident, blustery belter. Duarte uses that crater–deep voice to sink all the way down into the emotional core of his tunes, whether the feeling is a forlorn one or a knock–down–the–barstools invitation to kick up a storm. Carin Gorrell takes lead–vocal duties on the hurts–so–good two–step "Mistreat Me," providing a nice contrast to Duarte's husky tones, but when he puts tongue in cheek for the satirical good ol' boy character study "Redneck Roots", he comes to the fore with enough flexibility to make you wonder, if even just for a moment, which side of the cultural divide he's really on. Ultimately that's exactly what makes Southbound Train work – Duarte's ability to inhabit the world of his songs' protagonists and at the same time remain the objective observer. How else could he pull off such a knockout one–two punch as the opening line of the title track, where, over an appropriately locomotive–sounding beat, he starts out singing "My mama didn't raise no fools" before adding the coup de grace, "I was raised by my dad." Of course, it doesn't hurt his cause a bit to have the backing of pedal steel player Gordon Hartin, bassist Brian Young, and drummer Mike Cook in his corner either – they add plenty of forward motion to the rollicking ride that is Southbound Train.

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So Many Funerals is the kind of album we all want to write. You know from the first song that you are in for a rare treat. It wasn't so long many decades ago that the singer/songwriter style took on and became a driving force in mainstream music. Joe Maynard has managed to take that process into the new millennium. Each song is crafted to take the listener on a journey, and Maynard has a road trip or two to share. Where he goes, you'll want to follow. Whether he's right at home in Bed–Stuy or on the road seeing the world, we find ourselves sitting shotgun. The combination of Naa Koshie Mills on violin and Mo Botton on lead guitar sharing the solos adds a level of comfort to this already subtle album. The Musties also include Dennis Shealy on bass, Jim Thomas on drums, and a guest spot from Ryan Adams (yes, that Ryan Adams) on piano and lap steel on "Elvis Museum". Each instrument inserts itself at just the right moment to take Joe's story to the next level. If you've been a member of the Brooklyn Country music scene for a while, "Waltz for Drew" will make you a little melancholy for our friend. Joe was there, and he'll sing you 'bout it if you give him a moment.

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Jessica Stiles' EP 2009 album is the perfect marriage of vocal diversity and skillful songwriting. From the folksy grit and lilting vocals of "Carousel" to a twenty–first century spin on classic Americana in "Diamond City", Stiles' album is a delight to the ears of Southern music enthusiasts. Stiles' "I Never Had the One I Wanted" embodies the heartache and vocal richness reminiscent of Patsy Cline and leaves the listener pining for more.

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"God damn it! Because it is a lot of fun." This is the chorus of the Brooklyn Country family when asked why the Brooklyn music scene doesn't always sound so, uh, country. It is rather simple, the Brooklyn country circuit is BROOKLYN country. Emphasis goes to the name of the culturally diverse independent snearing NYC borough where country music has blended so well with multiple urban influence. And hell yeah, we have a good ole' time performing it whatever concoction we pull out. It is in this eclectic and irreverent country vain that the Defibulators are born from.

The Difibulators Corn Money is a mixture of Honkey Tonk, Dixieland, Country Swing, Surf, Alt–Country, Bluegrass and folk. What holds this amalgamation together? Punk rock! That's right, the Defibulators play a genre called Honkey Tonk, Dixieland, Country Swing, Alt–Country, Bluegrass, folk punk rock. The album is a mock radio show that starts with their namesake song, "Defibulator", a barreling rocker that has certainly resuscitated the heart of more than one cynical hole in the wall Brooklyn honky–tonk. "Corn Money" continues adeptly through various styles including "Honey, You Had Me Fooled", a Dixieland swing, "Gravy Shake", a surf tune clearly inspired by a Rockaway long boarder in cowboy boots to "Wandering Eye", a mellow torch song featuring the dulcet Erin Bru on vocals. "Ol' Winchester" is another blaster on the album that pays tongue in cheek homage to our American right purchase arms. I'm sure the NRA will hear the song differently than I! The song has a fantastic pounding double bass train wreck sound. Throughout the wreckord could be heard the pots, pans, bells and washboard of Metalbelly. He would be the one performing in red thermal underwear should you ever see them live.

If there is any criticism for this CD it is for the strong mid–range boost given during mix–down. It is this distortion that gives Corn Money its biting edge. However, it can also fatigue a listener's ears. But folks, this ain't Mozart they're playing. Corn Money is meant to be blasted out of the cheapest jukeboxes, in the dirtiest honky–tonks while drinking bottom shelf rye. The Defibulators have taken all the dirt, grime and anxiety of this town and poured it into a fantastic country platter.

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After starting as the front man for the Queens–based country outfit Actual Rabbits, leader John Henry Olthoff has stepped into the spotlight as an emerging solo artist with whom to be reckoned. His new EP Same Old Sun has been released and he's kicking up dirt at local honky tonks and creating a buzz.

Same Old Sun features a who's who of local country musicians backing Olthoff. Scott Dennis (front man for Dirt Floor Revue) plays drums. Glenn Spivak (songwriter and session musician) plays pedal steel and dobro. Frank Schiazza (singer/songwriter) plays guitar, bass, keyboards, and served as the albums producer.John's high and lonesome vocal styling allows the songs to speak for themselves. John Henry has a view of the world and an honesty voicing his frustration that can be appreciated in these times, in this city, in our personalities, friends, and circles.

If the AMA puts down their Neil Young albums long enough to seek out the next great fledgling songwriter, "This Town" will become an instant hit. Not since the likes of Hank Williams have we heard the kind of tale of woe and the quiet desperation men feel, but are afraid to talk about. If "This Town" reflects the storyteller's stuck–in–the–mud aspect of growing up, "Before We Doe Here" is the bastard sibling with a dream of getting out. Though many of Olthoff's tunes deal with the theme of isolation and loss, "Put It Away" relays the moments leading up to it. We're no longer outside looking in; we are along for the ride.

Enjoy Same Old Sun, the first true Brooklyn country album to emerge in quite some time.

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