The son of
country
legend
Bobby Bare
,
Bare Jr.
's music bears only a passing resemblance to that of his father. Sure, there's plenty of
traditional country
roots that can be heard in the grooves of
Boo-Tay
-- how could you grow up in Nashville during the '70s with folks like
Johnny Cash
and
George Jones
hanging around your house and not soak up some of their influence? For
, however,
is not a means to an end but rather another ingredient to throw into an energetic musical gumbo that includes healthy portions of
Southern rock
and punkish intensity. The songs on
don't just pour out of your stereo speakers, they reach out and grab you by the ears,
kicking out the jams with a vigor that surely had
Hank Williams
spinning in his grave.
Bare
's wonderfully imperfect vocals often spiral out of control like a drunken dervish, while guitarist
Mike Grimes
tears off fleshy, razor-sharp riffs like some sort of bloodthirsty predator.
's songs tread familiar lyrical ground, albeit with his own peculiar individual fingerprints, the subject matter on
ranging from self-loathing and lost innocence to betrayal and woefully unrequited love. Cuts like
"The Most,"
"Faker,"
"Why Don't You Love Me,"
and the wickedly dark
"I Hate Myself"
(written with family friend
Shel Silverstein
) are overflowing with brilliant imagery, not-so-subtle wordplay, and hard-rocking instrumentation, the band adding just enough twang to convince you that they hail from Nashville. One of the more auspicious debut albums of the late '90s,
the band delivered a swift kick to the backside of
alternative country
country-rock
poseurs alike with
. ~ Rev. Keith A. Gordon