Payette Brewing Co. presents the Treefort Music Fest Warmup Party featuring Seattle honky-tonk rockers Country Lips live at The Record Exchange at 6 p.m. First Thursday, March 2. We’ll be serving free Payette Brewing Co. beer for guests 21 and older with I.D. starting at 5:30! As always, this Record Exchange in-store event is free and all ages. Country Lips are performing at the Olympic later that evening and we have tickets for sale at the store!
Treefort Music Fest (March 22-26) is almost here, and we’re ready to start partying. If you don’t have a five-day Treefort pass yet, you can get one at The Record Exchange! You can also enter to win a Treefort pass at the event (must be present to win).
There’s also a First Thursday Treefort Art Walk, with local businesses (including us) featuring Treefort-inspired window art from local artists!
ACCOLADES FOR COUNTRY PIE
A wily eight-piece band of merry shitkickers from Seattle called Country Lips who specialize in a fortified brand of slap-back, honky-tonk, and countrified rock and roll. If you like Merle Haggard, the Flying Burrito Brothers, and some of Skynyrd’s jukier numbers, you’ll want to step on into this. Their latest full-length, Nothing to My Name, was mixed by Stuart Sikes (Loretta Lynn, White Stripes, Cat Power, Modest Mouse), and with it, the Lips have made giant strides. Out of the gate on “Black Water,” guitar-picked riffs and piano lock in and run together. They’re shooting whiskey while shooting skeet, and they’re nailing the same flying clay target right down the middle every time. Fiddle and mandolin rise out of the breakdown; somebody shimmies in the corner. The room stomps and spins. A three-part harmony rings up the chorus, and the tight-licked riff reloads again. —Trent Moorman, The Stranger
Outlaw spirit has faded since back in the day, but Country Lips might be the pick-me-up line of speed country needs to start kicking ass again. — Keegan Hamilton, LA Weekly, “Badass Country Punk Band Descends on Los Angeles”
Grab your sturdiest dancing boots and your best (well, least threadbare) flannel and be ready for a rowdy ol’ time with a big dose of twang. It’s not the alternative country of today’s big charts; this is more the whiskey-fueled honky-tonk of rustic bars with peanut shells littering the floors. —Geno Thackara, That Mag