Rex Hobart and the Misery Boys Your Favorite Fool

The wind blows only dust across the abandoned street; so few venture down here that there is no garbage left behind. All the buildings are dark, with dim streetlights casting a mere ghostly presence of what thrived before. Just as you are about to give up hope, a lonely playbill flutters against your boot. A barely audible hum in the air catches your ear and you follow it, looking at the paper in your hand for clues. The sound grows louder as you approach a hauntingly lit alley. Behind the only door in the dirty brick wall are sounds that belie the death stench of the street. Is something alive and well or is this yet another mask for a corpse long dead? Through the neon lit smoky haze, you see the room is crowded with souls who, like you, found their way to this beery oasis. The hum, now a clear twang, yields original tales of hear and now, not resurrected spirits dying to be put to rest. Rex Hobart and the Misery Boys know what they do well. Their third record, Your Favorite Fool, feels good on your ears and easy on your soul. Kelly Hogan glances over her shoulder with Hobart as a nod to the road they tread, with the George Jones and Tammy Wynette song "Golden Ring.” Life breathes in the body once thought soulless. All that glittered may be sold, but unadorned country music is still real. (Bloodshot)