It’s a Sin by The Blackstone Valley Sinners (Review)

Slim Cessna is a prince among men. A yodeling, cowboy hat-wearing, gold tooth-glinting, revival meetin’-leading, country music-worshipping prince among men. And sure, his tongue is planted so far in his cheek that it’s impossible to tell where exactly the genuine admiration for his sources ends and his wicked sense of humor begins. Make no mistake; there IS a very legitimate admiration for old time country music tucked away in there. Whether it’s with his Auto Club or his new Blackstone Valley Sinners outfit, Cessna is one of the most compelling frontmen in all of country music, “alt” or otherwise.

The Sinners were originally intended as something of a stopgap for the lull in the Auto Club’s push for global domination. Shortly after the release of Always Say Please and Thank You on Alternative Tentacles, Cessna moved to Rhode Island while the band’s banjo and guitar player relocated to Chicago and the rest stayed in Denver, which left the band’s future very much in the air. But Cessna found himself having so much fun with the Sinners that it’s become a second outlet for his work.

Less manic than his twisted work with the Auto Club (no Munly equals less mania), the Sinners instead embrace a kick-ass, gin-soaked take on the country-western genre jointly fueled by Cessna’s deadpan delivery and Rich Gilbert’s blazing guitar and pedal steel work. If that last name looked familiar, it’s most likely from his incendiary work as one of Frank Black’s Catholics. Rounding out the group are the solid bass work of Gilbert’s wife Judith Anne (now also a member of the Auto Club) and one very obviously synthetic drum machine, a source of immense glee to Cessna who is himself a very good drummer.

Though the Sinners are certainly far from being country in the traditional sense, they’re certainly not alt-country in the accepted sense. This is alt-country that behaves as though Uncle Tupelo never happened, music that has nothing at all in common with Ryan Adams, The Jayhawks, or any of the movement’s other torchbearers. This is music that looks right back to country music’s origins, accepts its clichés with a nod and a wink, and churns them back out in a vicious torrent. It’s delirious, giddy stuff, and here’s hoping Cessna manages to keep both of his acts together.

Written by Chris Brown.