What's one thing more awesome than hillbilly wailin' and the kind of beats you can only get hammering license plates with Vic Firth drumsticks? Answer: the electronica hillbilly wailin' you get through Texas duo Restavrant's particular brand of country. (And nothing is better than replacing drum equipment with license plates. That was a trick question.)
"Country" as a genre name rakes nails down the spines of a certain music listener. It's seenas a herald of the good ol' days, of pickadillies and whistlin' Dixie, of indiscriminately dropping the "g" off the end of "-ing" (because nobody associated with the North would dare cut a perfectly legitimate consonant). Even those who are fans embrace its history and deep-dug roots in Americana as part of its appeal-- as part of what it is. Its an American pass time, dammit. Screw baseball, country (and bluegrass, and rock, and soul, and R&B, and...) has glass milk jugs.
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