Receive Weekly Email and Text Message Updates:
Sign up for latest info on concerts, dining, promotions and more!
Go!

National Features >

  • Houston Press

    Hate to Say We Told You So

    A year before Toyota's massive recall, we published a lengthy investigation of problems with the Prius.

    By Paul Knight

  • Miami New Times

    Sex, Drugs, Gambling--and Football

    Heading to Miami for the Super Bowl? Don't leave the hotel without our guide to vice in the Magic City.

    By Michael J. Mooney and Gus Garcia-Roberts

  • City Pages

    Life in the Blue Zone

    Daredevil Dan Buettner's latest trick? Bringing the secrets of immortality to Minnesota.

    By Erin Carlyle

  • Phoenix New Times

    The Greatest Dane

    Bigger than Shaq and proud of it, the world's tallest dog may be living in Tucson.

    By James King

Holly Golightly and the Brokeoffs at Mercy Lounge

Catch Them Ridin' Dirty

Share

  • rss

By Adam Gold

Published on November 25, 2009 at 3:40am

The Brits have long had a fascination with American music. From the Stones obsession with Muddy Waters to the legions of limey teenagers who fawn over the Kings of Leon, it's obvious that, across the pond, the American South is viewed as something culturally exotic. Nowhere is that more evident than on English transplant Holly Golightly and her one-man backing band The Brokeoffs’ 2008 offering Dirt Don't Hurt. You could play someone any of Golightly's baker's-dozen records and easily fool them into thinking it was a genuine article from the '60s. On Dirt, Golightly tackles Delta blues and garage-folk with so much obvious love and appreciation that the record is as close and sincere an approximation of its influences as you're likely to find. Throughout the record, the songs shift between front-porch folk, mournful murder ballads and foreboding dirges, presented with kitchen-sink percussion that clinks and clangs over slide guitars and skiffling drums. All the while Golightly duets with her partner-in-crime—multi-instrumentalist Lawyer Dave—in a sexy deadpan croon that brims with antebellum sorrow.
Sat., Nov. 28, 9 p.m., 2009