This is a jug-swigging, toe-tapping, and uproarious album of Appalachian murder ballads. Backed by the Black Twig Pickers, Jack Rose standards like "Kensington Blues" receive royal reworking. The songs are taut, with banjo, fiddle, and harmonica reaching far back into the Blue Ridge Mountains to accompany Rose's finger-picked six string. As far as old-time, true, original bluegrass is concerned, this is peerless.

"We swing like a motherfucker," Jack Rose proclaimed in a recent interview. He was attempting to explain why Jack Rose and the Black Twig Pickers should not be classified as "free folk," and is just plain better music than the vast majority of poorly-played hipster nonsense encompassed by that fashionable subgenre. After all, the man is playing dance music, and he plays it mighty fine. This is a jug-swigging, toe-tapping, and uproarious album of Appalachian booty rap. Backed by the Black Twig Pickers, Jack Rose standards like "Kensington Blues" receive royal reworking, fleshing out the implications of one of Rose's staples.

Rose and the Black Twig Pickers are no strangers, as they've worked together for Dr. Ragtime & Pals on Tequila Sunrise, and Rose and Mike Gangloff used to play together in Pelt (in fact, this record features a sweet return to the Pelt song "Ayahuasca"). Rose is building a deep and diverse catalog, but I can say definitively that this one is amongst his best. There is a tangible energy coming out when these guys play together, and you can't help but be swept up by it. As far as old-time, true, original bluegrass is concerned, this is peerless. The songs are tight, Gangloff, Isak Howell, and Nathan Bowles shine in accompaniment, with banjo, fiddle, and harmonica reaching far back into the Blue Ridge Mountains to accompany Rose's finger-picking six string. The wax is heavy and sounds impeccable. This is real, genuine down-home music at its very best, and these boys swing like a motherfucker.

-Brian Cassidy (July 16, 2009)