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The Moustache Bandits



There's a real swell cowboy bar outside of Bozeman called Stacey's. It's a cowboy bar because actual cowboys/girls frequent and run the place. I found myself there a few moons ago feeling glad I remembered my flannel shirt and not-so-skinny jeans. Yet I was still an outsider, an imposter; I still actually smell manure when I visit a ranch. Bozeman's The Moustache Bandits reminds me of this feeling, because the band plays country for city kids.

There's some fine fiddlin' going on in the tracks Moustache Bandits has posted on its Reverbnation page. It's a necessary distraction from the vocal misogyny, however ironic it's supposed to be, with lines like "I'm gonna bend you over your dead daddy's grave." The guitars are more like backing tracks while the drums keep the tempos high. So it's really a fiddle and a guy twanging his heart out—about being horny when he's hungover. It's outlaw country, so they say, which means there should be mud on their boots and blood on their hands. But being outlaw for the sake of outlaw tends to cross the line from edgy into goofy. For example: "If whiskey were titties I'd be drunk all night." Still, you get the feeling this band is just trying to have fun in an unabashedly non-country way.

The Moustache Bandits and the Red Carpet Devils play Stage 112 Fri., April 19, at 9 PM. $5.

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