If guitar/bass/drum bands seem, like, so 1992; if punk has been much co-opted by Game-Boy slackers; if Courtney Love is babbling about enlisting in the Marines to go waste some Afghani ass; if rock & roll itself has too often choked on its own coifed, pierced and made-over vomit; or if your own butt just needs a good, loud kicking, then, o young at heart and sturdy of eardrum, do not miss the Drapes.A power-punk trio in the line of the Jam or the recently defunct Blacks, the Drapes currently reside in Chicago, and on their forthcoming Shine On, Sweetheart they blow through the rank raunch of politics and sex and booze, leaving behind sweat and venom and a few smashed Lynyrd Skynyrd albums. The nastiest edges of redneck blues can be heard in Kevin McDonough's twangy howl and guitar tone, but there's none of Southern rock's stoned indulgence. The Drapes have their balls too close to the wall for that. And that includes bassist Andrea Jablonski and drummer Todd Osborne, who seem to sacrifice at the altar of Sabbath with every bone-flogging bass line and tom break. The Drapes have the rock, and they're not afraid to use it. Go.
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