The Cuds, The Taste of Crow

If only your CD player speakers could just spit out an old, wooden place that sort of smells like smoke, but also dinner–then this would be ideal. The Cuds are exactly the kind of band that should only be playing in secret, weekend after weekend, in a bar that you have to drive to and walk home from on the edge of town. Because they are the best example I’ve heard in ages of that kind of a band. And their album makes me want to live in the country so I can appreciate it more. Guys, am I getting old? (Matt Collins)



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