Too Hick For the Room my big city ass! Sounds just right by me. This town, hell this world, needs a lot more of this. This music is air you can breathe, smoky and boozy and dudes out in the parking lot fighting. Inside the honky tonk everyone’s grooving and swinging, hell, there’d be dancing with the ladies if all them uppity jazz swells and slick hipsters would or could take a step or two. Man, can these cats play. Cow Bop ain’t no country radio band (not yet anyway), ain’t no jazz band either, but mama they sure swing, and yup that’s some pure bebop you’re hearing there in that incredible guitar solo. Bruce Forman that cat is, a barbed wiry, smirking smartass in a Stetson. The fiddler trading licks with him is Phil Salazar, and the hottie singing sweetly in the middle is Pinto Pam. Hands off, fellas, she sizzles. A dude I knew heard this album just once, jumped into his car and headed straight up the Grapevine where the mule deer and antelope play. Bakersfield is up that away, he said, next best thing to Amarillo . They got pickup trucks there, and cows and oil fields and chicken fried steak, and honky tonking Saturday nights. They got Cow Bop? No, he said, but they should. Best in the land.
Brick Wahl (really!)