Beer, bullets, bad luck and broken hearts. Angry Johnny and The Killbillies are Norman Rockwell's worst nightmare come to life. Take a trip to a town called Killville where nobody gets out alive and about the best you can hope for is a quick and painless demise.
A lot's been written about this band in places like Billboard, Stereo Review, Entertainment Weekly and countless other rags. But these murder ballads and tales of woe weren't meant to be read about in a magazine, they were meant to be listened to full blast on a crappy sterio in a fast car, barreling down a dark and lonely highway heading to nowhere.
So drink'em up, smoke'em if you got'em, laugh and punch that hammer down, say a little prayer, hang on and enjoy the ride.
Song by song the body count continues to rise, and the broken hearts and busted dreams keep pilin' up on the ground as you press the accelerator down a little harder. That cracklin' Delco spits out an endless stream of revenge, damnation, double crossin' and the occasional redemption. With a tear in your eye and a beer between your legs you laugh as you gain speed. Yeah, you may be going nowhere but you're going nowhere fast. The crosses on the side of the highway fly by in a blur, Old Scratch is grinnin' in your rear view and you just can't get her face out of your head. You realize that Heaven must not want you 'cause God don't hear your prayers. One step ahead of the Devil with the pedal to the floor, you call her on the cell phone and you tell her you're gonna play the saddest song she ever heard. There ain't no stoppin' now.....
