Review Summary: This is 'merica
It’s awfully fun to be presumptuous about Texas, and if Croy And The Boys are any indication, Texans would likely agree. Did you know that in Texas, it is illegal to milk your neighbour’s cow? I just looked up “weird Texan laws” on Google two seconds ago, right after looking up the difference between “presumptuous” and “presumptive”. This has been a productive evening. I also managed to overcome the fight or flight response triggered by stumbling across an album adorned with a closed fist wearing a cowboy hat. The description below the cassette being sold on the Bandcamp page says “6 song EP on cassette tape. hell yea. This is a preorder. Tapes should be ready to ship by May 1. note : The image is a pretty crappy photoshop job by yours truly because this is a preorder which means that I don't have the actual cassettes in hand yet! I promise that the real deal will look much better”. Who is “yours truly”? There’s no membership to be found anywhere on the page. Presumably that’s Croy? After consulting with their website, no one in the band is called Croy. Did they collectively put this scrappy ‘shop job together? What are the logistics of three people manning a single computer mouse?
And supposedly, there’s music involved too! I never thought I’d live to see the day I heard a cover of Crass’ “Do They Owe Us A Living?” in the key of “americana, country, roots, tex-mex, honky-tonk, Austin” (cheers, Bandcamp tags), though it seems anything goes in a pandemic world.
Of Course They Do might just be the cosiest ACAB sentiment this side of putting arsenic in a box of Krispy Kremes and leaving them outside a station. Billy Brag’s “Between The Wars” once stood as an organic campfire ballad for the everyman; a diplomatic “Redemption Song” of sorts. Thanks to the efforts of Croy & Co., it now has a harmonica! The rhythm section is simple enough for any aspiring cajon player. And that pesky cockney accent is nowhere to be found so your mates won’t take the mick out of you for trying to be Bri’ish! For as amusing as this all is, at least by my standards, it’s very clear that Croy And The Boys have a good deal of admiration for Billy’s work; Joe Cornetti’s vocal performance holds the charm of a seasoned storyteller, adequately pained and fatigued where the lyrics call for it. It takes a good deal of care to translate a specific political documentation from one dialect to another, and while I find the entire existence of Americana to be somewhat hilarious, I can’t deny that this rendition of “Between The Wars” is wholly enchanting for all the honky tonk.
It is difficult to imagine a more on-the-nose tirade against the abuse of governing power than Dicks’ “Hate the Police”; one of the most head-turning punk poundings of the 80s. I won’t say the cover found on
Of Course They Do ones up the original, but I will say that appropriating the lyrical content into a Texan country setting makes for an absurdly dissonant listening experience, one I absolutely wasn’t ready for when the line
“Papa, papa, papa
Look at your son
I’ve got me a good job
Killing blacks and mexicans”
rolled on in on a mighty steed; studded boots and all. A steady bassline plods along and a whistle solo is underpinned by news coverage of the Minneapolis protests from earlier this year. The degree to which one might read this as a tactful approach to the topic might vary, but as someone who’s recent endeavours in the country realm have been largely devoid of anything resembling an interesting discussion, I have to commend Croy And The Boys for deigning to so unwaveringly broach such a sensitive topic as the state treatment of minority groups in America.
Aggressive as a pivot as that might’ve been, I guess that’s what has me returning to
Of Course They Do as often as I have in recent days. I’m genuinely amused by this branch of music. Croy And The Boys aren’t really doing anything you haven’t heard a million times in films set in the American countryside, but their willingness to anchor their nigh comedic Western aesthetics in staunch politicking is laudable.
Of Course They Do sounds like every trope and stereotype of Texan living you’ve ever heard; an image one could argue historically has been most emblematic of what non-American populations consider to be the general US populace. This isn’t to say it is of utmost importance the message is coming from the horse’s mouth, but the juxtaposition of farmyard jams and nation-wide observations certainly bolstered the impact for this here Angolostralian lad. I certainly won’t be any less presumptuous about Texas for the foreseeable future, but it is nice to know that not every part is trying to make up the whole.
