Mark Bilyeu, The Ozark Mountaineer & Big Smith

. . . much like their first CD, is a set of songs from rural America's early recorded legacy, performed with earnest devotion by this dedicated trio.           

I love their sound.  I think they strike a perfect balance between the energy and drive required to give this music momentum and a musicality enough to keep the most discerning ears satisfied; just enough salt, just enough sugar.  And I love their sound, literally-that is, I can't say enough good things about engineer Curly Miller's method of live recording with ribbon microphones, placing the musicians strategically around the room to obtain the desired balance between the instruments (I think this is the third time I've praised Miller's ability to achieve an organic sound on these pages).

There are more vocal-oriented tunes this time around, a welcome move.  Paul McGowen's honey-coated, somewhat swallowed tone is altogether charming and sets a welcoming mood, and is nicely complemented by Skye McGowen's harmonies.  With frailing banjos, Pete Howard's fiddle, ukulele, some nice harmonica by Seth Shumate, the happy sounds of Skye's feet-what's not to like?  If you are a fan of old-timey music and can tolerate listening to it without the pop and crackle of the original medium (and in stereo), bring this CD home.  Given the parameters that Shout Lulu has set for themselves, I just don't think you can do much better. 

Frank Gutch Jr., FAME

. . .  I had pretty much been forced to limit myself, old-timey-wise, to the handful of collections made available through labels like Rounder and County and Arhoolie—labels which went out of their way to find and clean up old recordings by the likes of Uncle Dave Macon and Gid Tanner and His Skillet Lickers and a whole host of string bands which infused a rare mountain and rural heart in their music. Those days seemed to be stuck between vaudeville and bluegrass.  I thought that the sound had been left in the past. . .  

I stand corrected, thanks to  Shout Lulu. Last year's fine A Long Time Ago-go caught me off-guard with its authentic old-time sound and the anthropological attention to detail. Ridin' a Buggy takes it a step further. It floors me.

Speaking of floors, you should know that Skye McGowen carries a piece of floor around with her. She is a clogging maniac—well, maybe it's more of a flatfootin' lunatic—and has been using foot and floor to stomp out rhythms. . .  

When old-timey fans hear this new disc, they should eat well for awhile. While I thought it unlikely, they topped Ago-Go with eighteen outstanding (and I mean outstanding) collections straight out of the musical time machine. . .  all here and all performed to virtual perfection. Live. . .  "All of the songs were recorded 'live' into a pair of nice microphones, at The Old 78s Studio, by Curly Miller. He used his ear to determine who should scoot up or back and did a masterful job." Damn masterful. In fact, what he did shoots the hell out of every argument I've heard regarding sound quality. Simple as, Skye, a bit closer, Pete, a step back. Like Paul writes, "That's Old Time".

If you're not sure what real old-timey music is, think toned-down O Brother Where Art Thou. Plucked banjo, stomps and shouts, rudimentary harmonies, screeching fiddle, baritone ukelele—okay, no screeching fiddle, Pete plays much better than that. But it is primal and basic, and pure mountain. Not only that, it is unmitigated musical anthropology. It is not easy to find songs once played by Frank Blevins and his Tarheel Rattlers, or Luke Highnight's Ozark Strutters. I know. I've tried, but no more. After hearing this, I'm just going to let McGowen do my work for me. To paraphrase a famous line, "Something tells me this is the start of a beautiful friendship."