“Country-Punk? Is there such a thing? Well, if you're lucky enough to be in Manchester these days there is...they're lowlife scumfucks, whiskey drinking bastard sons of the Dolls/County/Cash/Ness and every other bad motherfucker in the name of rock n roll.
Medicine Stu heads up the band's alcohol-stained sound, with a lyric line similar to the Pogue-meister himself, Magowan, with a hint of Van Morrison and a delivery of a young Bobby Dylan. The songs kick your ass from the word 'Go' and don't really let up until the finale...Don't get me wrong, it's not all break-neck paced and furious, it has it's gentler, more melodic and even 'balladic' moments, but the delivery and message never falters....
Check 'em out now, check 'em out whilst they're still alive!
“'Apparently Manchester's trashiest rock'n'roll band' (Sleazegrinder) & on the evidence presented by SONGS FROM THE FLOOR, we're in no way inclined to argue. Great ass-whuppin' cowpunk! Wouldn't want to mop up that floor at the end of the night though'”
“Like an unholy cross between the Pogues at their most shambolic & the Dogs D’amour at their most out of control, the Medicine Bow kicks out the crusty cowpunk jams. Songs From the Floor spreads over the counter like spilled beer, leaving a burnished stain and the scent of stale alcohol and failed expectations – energy-spewing, sloppy, but laying on the boozy anti-charm in order to cover up the beating, bruised heart underneath the scuzz. Careening from dirty boogie (The Curse of the Bow), scorching rock & roll (This Side of Town (Train Song),Downtown/Downtime) to ravaged balladry (Waltz of Disregard, Wine Drinker) & skillet-licking C&W (Scar On the Horizon, The Walkin’ Talkin’ Splutterin’ Rotgut Blues), the Bow draws itself over the strings of American roots music with both the affection of true believers and the irreverence of thugs, driven more by spirit than any sense of tradition...raise a glass, but don’t forget to spill the contents on your neighbor.”
“‘This Manchester-based four-piece’s second album is a twelve-song humdinger which makes the ears bleed due to the loud & exuberant style in which they band play. Many of the songs impress but the one overriding tune is Beyond My Control. It has a homegrown sound to it which, when combined with the extraordinarily played harmonica, makes this particular track one that should see this album shifting a shed load of copies. Such a jouous sound is created right before your very ears that it makes you want to cry. Not because of sadness, but tears of joy for this album is a bona fide classic that should see the Medicine Bow being rightly recognised.’”
“fucking amazing band man. . . . . . . . A-motherfucking-Mazing. . . . . . . . . . . . . no exaggeration either guys!!!! i'm fuck”
— Stormy Fuckin Weathers, Drop-Out Wives head honcho
“'really very nice work'...'Great set last night even minus various members - really damn good sir.'- Mr Jay Taylor, Bone-Box head bandolier & Ruby Lounge promoter on The 'Bow's Songs From The Floor & Deadstring Brothers support”
— Jay Taylor, Ruby Lounge promoter on demo & DeadstringBrothers support Feb 08
“'masters of whiskey and wine driven country punk, oh, truly exciting stuff--someone commented it was like watching a modern day Johnny Cash and June Carter....'”
— Belle Of Les Bois
“the gig was cool man - i bet alot of people will remember it for a while - never seen a lead singer near resusitation half way through a gig - great stuff!!!”
— Jay Spooner, audience member, after TYLA support, Stockport Thatched House, Oct
“Reckless Boogie Blues that manages to combine torch songs with punk”
“take Pogues drunken sloppiness & don't give a fuck charm, Mekons drunken sloppiness mid-period country charm and just good ol drunken Replacements charm and you'll be somewhere near what this country rawkin'n'skronkin'n'saw sportin band bring to the table - are collard greens served anywhere over there? this ain't for the low jeans/wallet chain/john deere hat/skoalcan pocketfucks at ‘altcountry’ shows along with the frat boys;this is for those of us who dig the real rawk or country shit - Stooges or Johnny Cash. the bow aren't pretty and don't have ‘pop’ leanings, guitars scrape & squeal, bass is loud & thick - the drummer sometimes needs a metronome to keep his shit together - there's weepy/scary saw & well placed mandolin/piano/jews-harp/harmonica in the mix. in a genre sorely missing balls & attitude, these guys are real & just what I needed. In a world of cut and paste crap forced on us as ‘art’ we need bands like this to remind us what the real shit sounds like. thanks”
The Rawk (RIP but Another String review)
“Exist in a hiccup bubble of freelance debauchery, back porch poetry, slicked back hair & cowboy boots that are much too big but fit perfectly...a kitchen sink extravaganza of bleary-eyed invention & gut-bucket rock'n'roll attitude...The greatest band in the world for 30 seconds at a time...”
“'Quit Tomorrow, Fall Down Today Greased back wonky tonk rock chops stomp the hogg hogg…fall off the stage boogalu...the ramshackle fall over boogie disease'”
— Liam Revenge (Hyperjax)
“They're still smacked-out trashy punk rockers, thank God, but this latest CD has taken the band to a level above their last effort, 'The Boogietrash EP'. The out-of-tune-and-we-don't-care vibe is still well and truly there, but the tunes are so much better and the band have their own drunk country punk trash boogie sound down to a tee. Take notice, 'cos the next thing these guys record cound be stunning.
“Like Ten Benson taking on Kings Of Leon at their own game, or Johnny Thunders playing the part of a deranged backwoodsman in Deliverance, Manchester's Medicine Bow take their cues from various swamps, back-alleys and rot-gut juke joints, hammering out ramshackle jug-blues on whatever boxes, tea-chests and old planks they can lay their hands on. A world that idolises The Boggs, 22-20's and the raccoon-trapping Kings Of Leon should sit up and take notice, for this - like Nick Cave in the heroin breakfast days - walks it like it talks it.
“We once described the sound of The Medicine Bow as something akin to 'The last heroin addled days of Johnny Thunders being thrown down the stairs'. In their latest offering they're chucking it from a few flights higher and for its sheer ramshackle pomposity and unbridled Wilko Johnson inspired high jinks, it has to be our Star Choice. Dark and dangerous matter masquerading as trash basement boogie.
“Glimpse a town called Trinity, where only the exiled, the unforgiven and the downright trashed still live. And who are the hardest punks in town? The debauched, country shit-kickers, of course. It has always been thus. The Medicine Bow would be a band with a residency. Raucous and as hot as the most lethal firewater (they) take up guitar and saw to rist-peeling effect. Five cuts to shake the dust from your cowboy boots.
“Next up were Manchester veterans The Medicine Bow who I'm ashamed to say I'd never managed to catch live before. According to front man Stu this was the first gig in a while were all NINE members were present, a quick headcount (7) and I wrongly assumed this was a characteristic drunken error until I moved to the other side of the room and discovered 2 more lurking behind the speakers! The Medicine Bow are an eclectic bunch of happily half-cut noise makers. Their sound? Difficult to sum up in words, but as that's what I'm supposed to do here I'd say think of a bar room brawl between Johnny Thunders and The Heartbreakers and The Pogues and you won't be far off the mark. Entertaining stuff.
Eardrum Buzz review of Dave Arcari support June '08, Manchester Ruby Lounge
“‘Stu Gibson and Medicine Bow may be the greatest thing in music since The Faces. One of the best. If they don't make it huge, there is no justice.'”
Tommy Rivers & The Raw Ramps / Georgia Satellies git-tar tech
“'Shane MacGowan fronting The Gun Club”
Wood Shampoo Records
“The Medicine Bow, are no castrated puffins to the bourbon-soaked swiggin' garage rock 'n roll. Veterans, their song entitled, 'Bourbon,' bullpens a fitting 3 chorder in offbeat sharps and flats—twanging out the country blues. Medicine Stu, coats the liquored croons in the language of blue-suede tongue—only to know that live, his breath hypnotizes all in alcoholic-euphoria recall. Eliminating an all-poser packed biscuit crew, the reigning country-drunk punk influences of Johnny Cash and ACDC reverbs in swilling feedback and beastie squeals. Skidding a road-rash of guitar leaves no wondering that their main aspiration is to crank out killer tunes, nosh on beef jerky, all under the sunset Las Vegas sunset strip.”
— Sugarbuzz Magazine