Slobberbone

Slobberbone‘s pugnacious charm has won over crowds during each of the band’s past few visits to the area. Playing for a fast-fading audience as the third group on a weeknight bill, Slobberbone has been able to shake audiences awake. Touring in support of its just-released disc Slippage, the group will be showcasing all-new rural power chords. Too often lumped into the Americana pack, Slobberbone isn’t an alt-country band. Sure, there’s a Denton, Texas, accent buried deep in singer Brent Best’s soul, but there’s a good portion of broken glass in there, too. From the opening screech of “Springfield, IL” (in which the band has the audacity to rhyme a little still annoyed with that state name), Slobberbone works with garage-band idioms; they’re about overloaded extension cords, not torch and twang. There just aren’t many bands out there that present such a glorious melding of snarls, smiles, sneers and stones.