The Long Ryders
Native Sons

Cow(boy)punk is a genre that in English, as often happens, sounds much better than its translation in Italian. "Punk vaccaro" what does that make you think of? As a science lover, I relied on a friend of mine—let's call him "average listener"—for an empirical test, and the translated definition brought to his mind the image of an electric guitar nestled in a pile of manure and hay...  

Before unwrapping the plastic, I observed the cover, one of the ugliest I've seen—and keep in mind that '80s/'90s power metal CDs had few rivals in this sense (Manowar and Rhapsody remain unbeatable)—and I braced myself to be hit by a countryside sound with few variations and the same guitar riffs accompanying a monotone voice. Appearances and definitions often mislead.  

Born in the early '80s, the "The Long Ryders" are one of those bands linked to the Paisley Underground movement that struck and overwhelmed me, like a Tyson punch in his prime, with the show of "The Dream Syndicate" a year ago. Thanks to the advice of some fellow users, I'm learning to delve deeper into a genre I consider extraordinary. The formation of McCarthy and Sid Griffin draws its roots from the Byrds (the Y in Ryders is to be understood as a tribute) and Clash, and they ignited the west coast of the U.S.A. during a short but intense period in the '80s alongside the already mentioned band of Steve Wynn, "Giant Sand", Green on Red", "Thin White Rope", "True West", etc.

Their sound is less electric compared to the explosive "Dream Syndicate" and more anchored to the past: it edges closer to a modernly revisited country folk rock with a hint of post-punk in terms of the rhythmic section in some pieces; in their songs, with compact durations without strain, there is also room for jingle jangle and mandolin inserts.

"Native Sons" from 1985 follows the debut EP "10-5-60" and is perhaps their most representative and homogeneous work that maintains a high compositional quality with eleven very different tracks, equally enjoyable. There are traditional country rock ballads like the opener and the radiant "Sweet (Mental Revenge)" and tracks with a killer punch like "Run Dusty Run" and "Tell it to the Judge on Sunday" which seem to have been written specifically for live performances. This energy is contrasted with the melancholic melodies of the more introspective and electric "Ivory Tower" and "Too Close to the Light"; in "Wreck of 809"  there is no shortage of distorted guitars for a rawer and rougher sound in symbiosis with the lyrics and to conclude the work, a touch of post-punk "I Had a Dream".

In recent months, I've had the time and opportunity to listen to many works by bands born and "died" in the much-maligned '80s. Maybe it's because I'm connected to those years composed of tons of plastic, gel, and questionable fashions (after all, I was born in them), and at this precise moment, a comic strip has just formed above my head. I see within it that snobby jerk of a so-called music expert from my area labeling, with the attitude of a Taliban with a Quran in hand, the '80s as a curse directed at the previous decades. A time span to be erased entirely for the good of music and blah blah blah.

Bands and records, unknown to most, like this one demonstrate that generalization, arrogance, narrow-mindedness, and the conviction of having the truth in one's pocket can prevent us from making new discoveries. Because changing your opinion is a feeling of superb intoxication! I hope I've piqued your curiosity.