If Howlin’ Wolf and Patsy Cline guzzled moonshine while having snarlin’ backwoods fever sex under the full moon at the crossroads of Highways 61 and 49 in Clarksdale, Mississippi, the Surreal McCoys would be their star-crossed demon seed offspring.
Think of Johnny Cash crossed with The Clash. But with more charisma. And charmingly modest. And we’re all still alive. But other than that, just like Johnny Cash crossed with The Clash.
Formed during our days at Notre Dame Law School, we reunited in 2k5 after years in the wilderness, setting aside all of our festering recriminations, backhanded accusations, and artistic differences...and guns. We polished up the instruments, oiled our chaps, and practiced all three chords, mastering two of them. Since then, we've played all over this land, from the Corn Belt to the Porn Belt. Internationally known; locally respected. Often arrested, rarely convicted. In short, we're kind of a big deal.
So be on the lookout for the mighty Surreal McCoys on our never-ending "Three Chords and a Cloud of Dust: One Stop World Tour." It's rolling on and coming to a town near you, to the chagrin of livestock and revenuers everywhere. It's bound to be a beer-guzzlin, spur-whirlin, bone-crunchin’, tort-feasin' good time for the whole family, especially if your family likes rockabilly, country, punk, blues, campfire sing-alongs, corn liquor, or animal husbandry (and every combination thereof).
The Surreal McCoys:
Billy Saul, Cletus, Clint, Elvis, and Goat Boy