New songs are being recorded right now. Songs with slamming drums, funked-up clavis, screaming be-jesus Hammond B-3's, grinded-out low-strung hollow-body bonkers guitar and orgasmic vox straight from a big 8-piece box. Are you ready.....to obey....the Cow.....God??????? Where's those two boneheads?
We are currently undertaking an ambitious new project, one that will showcase the country side of The Chasers. Honky Tonk All-Stars will be an album showcasing the shit-kicking shenanigans at which we excel.
Never in the midst of my darkest whiskey-soaked rage did I ever think I would hear my favorite classic country hits revamped in one sleek package, but that was before Kickstarter seeded my soul with this tender sapling hope, a hope that someday other people would come to love this forgotten music as much as we. For when did you ever hear the haunting strains of "Red Necks, White Socks, and Blue Ribbon Beer" reproduced with such sickening intensity, or the frenetic chicken picked fret work of "Liza Jane" beamed directly into your besotted brains. And who could have foretold that one day Ricky Skaggs moth-eaten corpse would stagger into our homes with the shimmering riffs of "One Way Rider" still ringing in the golden tips of his fingerbones. Not even such luminaries as Paycheck, Price, or Cash could put a monetary limit on a chance to hear "There Stands the Glass" belted out in the earthy, unassuming tones that The Chasers have earned as their trademark through countless smoke encrusted dives dotting the Missouri backwoods from here to the Current River.
All we are asking is a small donation to recoup the ever soaring costs of hiring competent musicians and replacing the fried electronics that used to serve as our only window to the wider world outside the dilapidated shack that we call our studio. Indeed, our last album had no sooner been mixed than the 16-tack warhorse of a machine we had relied on for so many years began to belch evil tendrils of smoke and promptly died an ignominious death in my very hands, which no screwdriver could fix and no amount of tears could ressurect.
That is why we are humbly groveling at your feet, oh ye huddled masses of Middle-Reverb, to succour us in our time of need, for which you shall be richly rewarded with a truly unique and original product, one which the corporate powers have worked so hard to squelch. But you will not allow them to kill our dreams in their infancy; because you are wise and true to the very end, even if called upon to sacrifice your last five dollars on the altar of integrity. Your support will buoy us on steadfast waves, as your reading this far has already confirmed; you believe in real music.
And we pledge, as long as red blood still beats in our enlarged hearts, as long as breath still tears out of us in ragged, smoky gasps, to ever uphold the standards of this truly American art form known colloquially as "Honky-Tonk", a strain of madness for which no cure has been found. And so if you will stand with us, we will do our part to liven the sad little corner of life that we still have left. All you have to do is...Believe. And give us money.