With an arsenal of guitars, banjo, thumping upright bass, fiddle and drums, delivering neo-classic-sounding melodies and lyrics, their sound is a wholesome mishmash of creek mud, rusty nails and your mom’s cookin’. It’s sincere, straight-forward and sexy as fuck, effortlessly combining such disparate musical styles as rock, country, bluegrass, and punk to create an incomprehensibly smooth and accessible sound for true believers and skeptics alike.
They confront traditional country music themes of loss, lamentation, and redemption, with a couple of drinking songs for good measure. Sure, they’re borrowing pages from the books of Hank Williams, Bill Monroe, and Johnny Cash, but Rose’s Pawn Shop takes those pages, tears them up and sets them on fire with three and four part vocal harmonies and lyrics that’ll break your heart.
Something happens when you hear these songs. No matter how low you’ve sunk, something in the music finds you. It picks you up and carries you home.
