Old Crow Medicine Show: Tennessee Pusher

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.