Dirty politics... The Dirty Dozen... Dirty money... Dirty Harry... Dirty panties slung over the chair...
It doesn't get anymore hell-yeah-get-down-rock-n-roll-American than that, brothers and sisters.
Now, Dirty Box. A fine addition to said list.
Hailing from (and how fuckin' perfect is this?) the Dirty South (Charlotte, NC, by God!), Dirty Box take rock-punk-alt and push things a bit further than all today's poseurs, while slathering on dynamic pop hooks and wink-wink humor the way you slather the Duke's mayonnaise on your midnight snack. Day-um! DB rocks so hard they're probably breaking laws in any given Southern state and Idaho every 10 minutes they play.
Lots of range, with multiple singers and songwriters, plus hard rocking grooves juiced by the occasional psychedelic headtrip cum white-boy soul moment. Dig.
The men proffering such hellacious sonic goodness?
Bub Holla : Bass, Vox
Dirty Dave : Guitar, Vox
Dirty Tim : Drums
Moe Lassiz : Guitar, Vox
Due to misguided subpoenas, excessive parking tickets and non-character building activity at a handful of bars and strip clubs in whichever town you reside, we can't give any more personal info--Other than to say that all four are Queen City Rock Royalty, having plied their craft in a handful of adventuresome Charlotte rock outfits from the early-1990s to present.
So in the immortal words of San Francisco Police Department Inspector Dirty Harry Callahan: "Do You Feel Lucky? Well, Do Ya, Punk?"
Of course you do. So don't be afraid to get a little dirty.