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At A Glance
LAMBCHOP is Nashville's most fucked-up country band. They aren't influenced by country music--they influence country music. Their music is even smoother than Del Reeves, and they have more musicians than Tanya Tucker's bathroom antics: two guitars, one bass, two drummers, pedal steel guitar, open-end wrenches, lacquer-thinner can, organ, xylophone, euphonium, trombone, baritone sax, trumpet, clarinet, bongoes, resonating metal square, and a vanilla extract bottle. Although they strive to be truly Nashville, they are virtually ignored in Nashville. In a town where every No. 1 single is recognized with a splashy Billboard overlooking the offices on Music Row, they labor quietly and diligently, waiting for the day when someone--Tony Brown, Aubrey Mayhew, Faith Hill--will return their phone calls or sexual advances. Chet Atkins may have turned his back on country music, but Lambchop haven't. As they discreetly continue to develop the New Nashville Sound in recording studios all across Music City, they know the day will come when the deadbeat moms and dads of country music will fess up and recognize their illegitimate children as the true inheritors of country music.
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