‘Done up in a suit and tie, never asking the what or why, crunching numbers at my desk, turned my back to all my friends’ (Fate Worse Than Death)

Originally formed in Bloomington, Indiana back in 2012, The Cowboys are now spread far and wide across the Americas.  But they return here in fine style, on this their seventh full-length, and follow-up to 2023’s Sultan Of Squat.  They continue to craft a rich melding of garage punk and alt-country, all imbued with a healthy slug of pop psychedelia.

Brightly shimmering guitars, bold yet fleeting solos, and a crisply upbeat rhythm section create a jauntily invigorating energy, one that the chiming vocals and harmonized backing are only too happy to match.  These elements are reworked and layered with an admirable fluidity as The Cowboys hone nineteen, tautly constructed two-minute nuggets that fizz with quiet invention and subtle textural shifts.

This breezy melodicism though belies a rather more melancholic lyrical inclination as the band weave together a series of colourful vignettes from the trials, disappointments, and small betrayals of everyday life.  Personal highlights are the choppily catchy Fate Worse Than Death and the rollicking Penascola, not to mention the febrile exultations of Sisters Of Correction.