How To Start Again – Blame Sydney! from Alessio Summerfield on Vimeo.

Now if only they could find a house to rock with a floor they could cave in, ’95-style (someone remind which band it was — The Peeps from Huntsville?)

In the meantime, catch them at The Independent, where they will almost certainly be playing sometime soon.

That’s high praise, Calvin Johnson, high praise.

The Haints were also recently featured on APT’s “We Have Signal.”

Huntsville garage virtuosos Thomas Function anchor The Independent's "Indiepaloozaroo II."

That there was actually enough response to justify another one (4 nights of music, 4 nights of new local art next to the old records of once local bands nailed to the wall, 4 nights of something to do) is giving Heath Truitt the sigh-of-relief impression that things are getting better, that Auburn is about to emerge from behind the curve, that the Independent’s “Indepaloozaroo II” is worth the effort he’d still put into it even if it wasn’t.

When Truitt, 35, moved back to the Plains from the comparatively thriving scene of Richmond, Va., in 2006, he found – except for the cover bands – a different town than the one he’d left eight years earlier.

The record stores were boutiques; house shows were all but extinct.

Since he couldn’t find the teaching job he wanted, he and a partner, Derek Davis, decided to put their money where their nostalgia was and do something about it.

The result is located at 203 Opelika Road and along with the fruits of the Gnu’s Room-led renaissance of Southside Village, it – The Independent – is one of the few cultural something-to-dos Auburn currently has going for it.

“I started (The Independent) to prove that Auburn can be just like any other college town,” Truitt says. “Even Oxford, Miss., has a better scene than we do right now.”

That wasn’t always the case.

In terms of underground music, Truitt’s time as a student at Auburn in the mid-90s both coincided with and helped nurture what were arguably the town’s glory days. Thanks to the do-it-yourself dedication of folks like Truitt (who, in addition to picking up several guitars himself, booked shows at three different houses on his way to an Auburn degree in hotel and restaurant management), local bands had a reason to form and nationally touring bands – The Queers, Dillinger Four, Hot Water Music… – that might not have been able to find Alabama on a map the day before were regularly drenched in the sweat raining from the ceilings of houses on Glenn, Ross, Harper, Gay.

The Gossips play Heath Truitt's Cox Street house, January 1995. Minutes later, the floor caved in.

Minus fear of the cops being called (plus the convenience of hummus and draught beer), those are the kind of nights The Independent has been trying to recreate since opening last March.

“I mean, we might not turn into an Athens or a Gainesville,” Truitt says. “But we can at least do better than an Oxford or Columbia [S.C.].”

The Indiepaloozaroo (Independent. Lollapalooza. Bonnaroo.) series is a good start.

In addition to regional and local bands (The Bandar-Log, Summertrees), the four-day event will feature an exhibit by local artists Wayles Carpenter, Iris Talbot and Teil Duncan.

Critically acclaimed Birmingham indie-rockers Vulture Whale anchored the first such event in January.

The biggest draw this go-round will be Huntsville’s rock’n’roll buzz-band Thomas Function, whose Thursday night show in Auburn – the end of a winter tour – will be their last before returning to South by Southwest in March.

Truitt smiles.

“The goal is to remind [people in)]Auburn that they like watching live, original music,” he says.

After all, Truitt says, “We’re in a college town. This what you’re supposed to do.”

Indiepaloozaroo II starts tomorrow and lasts through Saturday, Feb. 6.
An exhibit of works by local artists Wayles Carpenter, Iris Talbot and Teil Duncan will open at 6 p.m. tomorrow and be on display through March 5.
Tomorrow (Wednesday) kicks off with progressive Tuscaloosa indie-rockers Baak Gwai (fronted by son of Auburn, John Snowden), the psychedelic pop-rock of Hattiesburg, Miss.’s Ben Shea, and Auburn’s dynamic synth-minimalist duo Summertrees.
Thursday features Thomas Function from Huntsville and Summertrees.
Friday it’s Birmingham’s hard-to-define, easy-to-like (and critically acclaimed) Through the Sparks (fronted by son of Auburn, Jody Nelson) and the funky, no-rules garage rock of locals The Bandar-Log.
Saturday wraps up with the eclectic soul of Athens, Ga.-based The HEAP (with the bass of son of Auburn, Jeff Rieter) and the funky, throwback hard rock of An Abstract Theory from Muscle Shoals.
The cost is $5 per night. Doors open at 9 p.m. Four-day passes are currently on sale at The Independent. Call 826-3151 for more info or visit www.myspace.com/theindependentauburn.

Probably the first Man or Astroman? 7-inch that I ever bought at Sunburst Records (R.I.P.) in Huntsville, back in 1994 or 95. The cover art is still incredible.

Man or Astroman? was a huge deal to me. An impetus. A launching pad. Their silver surfer sounds traveled north to my part of Alabama, reaching my hungry ears around 1994. I went to Huntsville to visit friends at the University of Alabama at Huntsville and they got me hip to Man or Astroman? and “Mystery Science Theater 3000″ in one swell weekend. (Did you notice I didn’t mention the co-eds of UAH? Yeah. Those guys weren’t much help there.)

The first listen to Man or Astroman? was mind blowing to me. This band was from Alabama?!?! Auburn, Alabama?!? All of a sudden, Auburn was the center of the South’s musical map in my mind.

At the time, I didn’t know squat about surfer, garage and trash rock. I had no idea what The Cramps were about. I had heard Link Wray’s “Rumble,” but couldn’t tell you that he was responsible for conjuring that dangerous-sounding song. I would eventually seek out regional rockers Los Straitjackets from Nashville and Southern Culture on the Skids from North Carolina because they were often mentioned in the same breath as Man or Astroman?. (Yeah, I think the proper punctuation would be to put a period after that question mark since it is part of their name and even though it ends a sentence.)

Man or Astroman? was the atomic blast that would throw me into a chaotic world of better, interesting music.

I nabbed any 7″ record of theirs available at Sunburst Records in Huntsville that I could find. And then I started grabbing other records too. Thee Headcoats. The Mummies. Bikini Kill. Fun Girls From Mt. Pilot. The Slackers (the punk band from Huntsville).

But my attempts to see Man or Astroman? on stage always ended in failure. Because of horrible luck, they were my personal space-age version of George “No Show” Jones. I traveled to Nashville in 1995 (or maybe ’96) to see them at Lucy’s Record Shop near Vanderbilt. The show was canceled. A few months later I tried to see them at the dingy, grimy Tip Top Cafe on the south side of Huntsville. No dice. Show canceled. But this is a horrible representation of them. MOAM? were known to tour this country and others hard and often! (I would eventually see them during an early afternoon show at City Stages around the year 2000 and write a interview/review for The Plainsman. It was not the experience that I had longed for.)

A show with fellow Auburn band The Quadrajets.

By the time I transferred to Auburn University in 1997, their vapor trail that led to Athens, Ga., was cold. The band was long gone. And all that was left were the stories of Man or Astroman?’s time on the Plains. I heard snippets of tales: trashed houses, bowling alley shows, etc. Sadly, I’d also heard that the band had grown tired of living in Auburn, realized that they could get more attention in Athens, and had moved. Their new HQ was in Athens. Hated Athens! They would never play in Auburn again.

But now comes word that the band (that disbanded in 2001 or … ahem … retired to their “underground cryogenic center”) is reuniting to play a show at The Bottletree in Birmingham on March 6 (at this time, tickets are available). Another show in Georgia the night before (tickets still available). And more shows at South By Southwest (SXSW) in Austin later in the month.

And now I must pump information from you, dearest reader, to entertain and delight us all. Were any of you living in Auburn during the early-to-mid ’90s? What were some of your favorite MOAM? memories? Do you have any photos? Any illegitimate space children? Are they responsible for the carbon scoring on your droid and you demand restitution in astronaut ice cream?

Let us know! Send us any photos/stories/recordings/slanderous rumors that you might have and we here at The War Eagle Reader will compile them into a sort of “unofficial oral history” of Man or Astroman?’s time in Auburn.

Please send your info to: thewareaglereader@gmail.com or post it up on our Facebook page.

Click here to read Chunklet‘s interview with Birdstuff (drummer Brian Teasley) about the upcoming reunion shows.

Click here for a list of MOAM?’s six (count them … 6!!!) sessions with John Peel at the BBC (includes audio).

Blood Eaters: Auburn metal legends Hematovore have been doin' it proper since 1992.

Dig if you will a picture … a born ‘n’ raised Auburn Tiger moves away from home only to be greeted by a package from a parent who has been furiously rummaging through memories of their child’s past in the name of “cleaning.” The package contains assorted Auburn memorabilia: a signed Bo Jackson 8×10, an old Opelika-Auburn News game day wraparound and a VHS cassette circa 1998.

Auburn Tiger pops in the tape. At the very end are complete live performances by Auburn underground hall-of-famers Hematovore and Hotbox Escape Pod filmed at Bandito Burrito, now Mike & Ed’s BBQ. Chances are you stopped in for some grits when it was Tiger Time Diner back in the day. And chances are, if you spent any significant time on the Plains, you caught a glimpse or heard a chord of Hematovore, the go-to guys for instrumental metal.

They’ve been those guys for 18 years. 18. That’s a long time to consistently draw a crowd.

Hematovore still does, even if guitarist Jamie “Spaz” Uertz thinks the reasons have changed.

“It’s like watching ‘The Price is Right,’” Uertz says. “Now people just come out to see the train wreck or see when we are going to have heart attacks onstage.”

How many heart attacks have they dodged since forming in 1992? It’s hard to say — what counts as a gig? What counts as sober?

Despite the band’s longevity, Uertz puts Friday night’s show at The Independent as maybe only its 100th.

100 gatherings. 100 episodes. 100 nights of fun.

And while the faces and names have changed (at least some of them), the Auburn crowd that gathers Saturday for the deceptively beautiful and intricate melodies of metal as unique as it is loud is going to look like they always have: headbangers and hippies, dudes and ladies, young and old with inquisitive smiles of “yes …” on their faces.

A review at decoymusic.com tries to explain things: “Bands with three guitar players always get me excited, and Hematovore is no different. Amidst the cacophony of chugging guitars, symphony of guitar effects, and wandering leads, there is a drummer in there, beating away to his heart’s content.”

Uertz, ever humble, describes the sound simply as “uh oh … feeling sweaty …”

He’s not goofing around entirely. On many occasions, Hematavore has been the only band on the bill, not just because they have got the skills of three, but the endurance: Half the time, Hematovore is going to play all night long.

But as for descriptions, at this point in the game, it is important to know only that the members of Hematovore are some of Auburn’s most talented musicians.

And most committed.

Uertz says the band has been through just three or four changes to the guitar gallery and only one behind the drums.

Currently bringing the ax triple threat are Uertz, Rod Stewart and former Trust Company member James Fukai, while Randall Sewell handles bass duties. Seemingly soft-spoken Brian Cross (who possesses one of the finest vinyl collections in War Eagle country) pounds the drums in ways that can still shock the uninitiated. And there are plenty uninitiated: These guys have been playing music together longer than some Auburn undergrads have been alive.

But the band’s heyday, like so many other Auburn acts, is undoubtedly rooted in Auburn’s thriving late ’90s house party circuit.

Hematovore bringing it at the Malformity House on N. Ross sometime in the Fall of '97. Look, there's Hilman! And that guy! And Silent John!

That is when their record, “Out For Blood,” debuted on WEGL’s “Homegrown” show hosted by Dave Veatch (Rudy Banes Breakdown). The record led an all-out resurgence in local music interest, garnering consistent airplay in WEGL’s regular rotation — a historically rare feat considering the sheer randomness of programming on Auburn University’s student-run radio station. The band went from “weird name on a flier” to required experience. Breeze shot between Auburn scenesters on whom to include in a line of hypothetical Auburn action figures (Gay St. Spectrum Gas Station and Wall play set sold separately) never failed to include long-time Hematovorite Steve Schultz, with his mop of Crystal Gayle-length blond hair and trademark bike shorts.

“I knew them as a staple on the Auburn music scene,” said Wes Funes, a former 10-year Auburn townie. “They always came to a show with fistfuls of energy and heads full of swingin’ blond hair.”

Ah yes … Uertz remembers those days fondly. House parties … UPC Battle of the Bands …

“[The] best places in Auburn to play were the house parties,” he says. “Nobody does that anymore ‘cause the kids these days suck and don’t like real music anyways.”

So why keep offering it to them? Is it for the sake of educations? An extra sense of obligation to the “something special” Auburn music scene they’ve helped define and sustain for two decades?

“We still play shows,” Uertz says, “because it’s fun.”

Who: Hematovore, Weak Music for Thomas, and Jeff McCleod

Where: The Independent, 203 Opelika Road.

When: Saturday, Oct. 24. Show starts at 10 p.m.

The Pine Hill Haints are coming home to rock 'n' roll... Toomers, that is.

It’s been a slow 12 months for The Pine Hill Haints.

“We’ve done a lot of playing, but we’ve always done a lot of playing,” says guitarfiddlevocals frontman Jamie Barrier. “We might have even done a little less.”

Truth is the North Alabama-based, Auburn-rooted, culture-bridging, genre-blurring jug band gods of A Good Time toured only six times in the past year.

And they were only deported once.

(… something about musicians and British labor laws and because after telling them he was there to “visit friends,” the only name that drummer Ben Rhyne could think to say when they asked who was “uh… Donald.”* That got them locked up for 24 hours and put on the first flight home. Who knows anybody named Donald?)

“Five of our six England shows were sold out,” Barrier says with a wistful little ‘sonofa…’ still in his voice. “The one in Ireland was going to be the biggest ever. It’s been a wild year, man, to win or to lose.”

Wild … and, deportation aside, mostly victorious, don’t let him fool you.

“To Win or To Lose,” the band’s appropriately titled new record (their 14th release since 2000 and second full-length album on Olympia, Wash.-based K Records) was released in the spring and has, thus far, received rave-ish reviews.

“The Pitchfork writeup was kind of big, you know, just ego-wise,” Barrier says. “People are still coming up to me about that.”

Also big? The names of the bands they’ve shared stages with since last summer … you know, like The Jesus Lizard and Pierced Arrows, like Calvin Johnson and Ian Svenonious … like Against Me! and Skid Row and the Strange Boys and The Coathangers and Japanther and Th’ Legendary Shack Shakers.

They’ve played festivals, they’ve played on hipster-charted California yachts, they’ve played Church of Christ-organized Lauderdale County fish fries.

So make that a slow, awesome 12 months …

But none of it, Barrier says, will compare to this Friday and Saturday … to a slow weekend (you know, just two shows and a football game ) back to where it all started and hearing the same people sing along just as loudly to your new songs that sang along to your first songs 10 years earlier.

Barrier graduated from Auburn in 1998. His wife, Katie, the Haints’ washboard/mandolin player, graduated in 2001. The band’s name itself comes from Auburn’s historic Pine Hill Cemetery. They used to practice there.

“I’ll be honest with you man,” Barrier says, “playing-wise, nothing is better than a good night in Waverly or at Fred’s Feed and Seed when it’s one of those bumpin’ nights and there’s a million people there and a bonfire and Alex has a cigar in his mouth and Phil’s there and there’s all these people dancing and pretty girls and, you know, you’re in a cotton barn or something.”

You can sing along with The Pine Hill Haints this Friday night at Fred’s Feed & Seed in Loachapoka and Saturday night after the game at The Independent in Auburn.

* Rhyne is the latest in a long line of Haints drummers with friends named “uh… Donald,” including The War Eagle Reader’s own J.M. Comer and Jeremy Dale Henderson.

Who: The Pine Hill Haints

When/Where: 8 p.m. Friday night at Fred’s Feed & Seed, Hwy. 14 in Loachapoka with Roof Rabbit. PAPA D’s Super Grille will be serving ribs and such from 7 p.m. until late.

Saturday night (after the game) at The Independent, 203 Opelika Road, with Toy Box and Red Mouth.

Locals Roof Rabbit describes itself as combining “aspects of punk, blue grass and indie to create a new style of music with a sound that instigates a foot-stomping, hand-clapping dance craze, often associated with fit’s of hollerin’.”

They play with Muscle Shoal’s Lauderdale at this Saturday’s victory party at The Independent, 203 Opelika Rd., Auburn, AL.

Roof Rabbit. Basement of Debardeleben, 2006. Photos by Keith Krome.

When I first met Roof Rabbit’s chief banjo-man, Jason McGee, we lived in an Auburn that was home to a thriving underground music scene … unfortunately we were hardly old enough to relish in all its glory.

Jason was 16, I was 15, and if I can remember a decade and a half back, we met in one of the few ways weird kids could back then — either drama club or band, maybe even both. I was taken aback by this tall fella with bushy hair, most likely because we had the same winter outerwear and worn-down JNCO corduroy pants. Jason was a damn fine drummer who was new to the scene; I think he was from California.

I’d be a liar if I didn’t point out that I was smitten with Jason, his love of They Might Be Giants and that hilariously tiny station wagon he drove at the time. Somewhere in the throes of that one-sided high school romance and many a night spent at Hickory Lane Park (pre Hickory Dickory, mind you), I introduced Jason to one of my best friends, and the rest of that story is reserved for high school reunions and holiday reminiscing.

Around the same time (plus or minus a year), I met Matt Forehand, known now as Roof Rabbit’s mandolin-er and harmonizer. I remember the first time I met Matt. I’d been bumming around in Casey Prestwood’s (formerly of Hot-Rod Circuit) mom’s basement over off of East University Drive (pre-Super Wal-Mart and South College explosion) and somehow Casey managed to get his project Stealing Mikey on the bill with Beauregard mainstays Spackle (which featured Forehand, Jim Tankersley and Andie Nixon) at a last-minute gig at Lil’ Irelands. Surely you remember that spot on Magnolia Avenue: It was conveniently located next to Kinko’s, and supposedly it was THE PLACE to go get your drink on between classes. Unfortunately we were all far too young to know of such things, but somehow these kids, none of them over 17, managed to land a gig there on a Saturday night.

It was an ordeal. I remember someone’s drums falling out of a truck in Casey’s mom’s cul-de-sac. I think it took us 45 minutes to make it out to the main road. This was Auburn, people, it shouldn’t have taken more than a few minutes. When we finally showed up downtown, somehow we convinced the door guy to “X” our hands and let us in (oh, the ABC Board would have loved that one), and we assumed we were all set. After some time, one of the guys (I can’t remember who) came bearing the bad news: Nobody was playing. It was some kind of snafu; the kind only a bunch of high school kids finds themselves betwixt.

For this next part, I really hope I remember is correctly, because it is one of my first memories of Matt Forehand. Forced out onto the (hardly) mean streets of Auburn, this ragtag group of under-18ers was forced to find something else to do. And the only thing Matt could think to do was let out a guttural, angsty growl as he hurled a cymbal atop the Kinko’s roof. I like to think that it is still there.

After Spackle, Matt and Jim Tankersley went on to form inthealtogether, which, for lack of a better term, was just plain ol’ artsy. I broke out their album not all that long ago, and while it doesn’t exactly stand the annals of time, there is an entire track devoted to brushing teeth. Nobody ever said these kids were anti-oral hygiene. (I think Jim went on to work on a performance art piece called “My Teeth are Killing Me” but don’t quote me on that because things got hazy around the beginning of the millennium.)

Matt and Jason both graduated high school in 1997. Jason opted to stick around Auburn, while Matt matriculated at the University of Montevallo (and later College of Charleston). With Matt out of the picture, Jason began working with Jim in a mutated form of inthealtogether. I recall vividly Jim and Jason slaving away to pad the walls of Jim’s one-bedroom apartment to keep their neighbor (who we used to call “Good Deal”) from angrily pounding the walls in response to Jason’s drumming.

It was also during this time that several of us non-musical types banded together to form MonkeyFist, an art-rock outfit whose songs only centered on the sample tracks produced by Casio keyboards. Those tapes are now officially lost, so if you have them, please hook us up.

from left to right: Matt Forehand, Jason McGee, and Michael Grossman.

Toward the end of 1998, Matt returned to Auburn and slipped me a copy of some 4-track recordings he made under the name moniker “Nub.” These recordings, friends, were genius. Many nights were spent in that padded apartment (lovingly called “Lester”) listening to Murfreesboro, Tenn., badass Matt Mahaffrey’s project SELF. By this time, Jason had moved into an apartment across the parking lot, and on one of these evenings, Matt, being one of the most lovable goofy guys you’ve (hopefully) met, accidentally nailed Jim in the mouth with a pocket knife, effectively chipping Jim’s front tooth. I don’t think he ever got it fixed. Anyway, Matt’s Nub tape was gold, y’all. It showed us that the kid meant business.

Now joined with a merry band of locals (Phil McGlynn on fiddle, Brian McLeod on drums and Mikey Grossman on bass), Matt and Jason continue to leave a mark on Auburn’s music scene with Roof Rabbit. Naturally, there is much more to their stories (and that of Auburn’s old and new school music scene), but in the meantime, get acquainted with the more seasoned and mature good-time tunes these fellas are cranking out. What a difference a decade makes, no? So head to Auburn’s home opener, make your daddy proud with a bottle of Maker’s or Jack, delight in the visceral feast of gameday, then head over to The Independent for a raucous good time with my old (and your new) friends, Roof Rabbit.

After 20 some odd years, Sally Tee finally joined the ranks of Auburn expatriates. Although displaced in the Midwest, she still thinks about Jordan-Hare, Auburn city politics, 99.9 Kate-FM and Tino’s on a daily basis. Write to her at SallyTee.Auburn@gmail.com.

It all started with a Flaming Lips T-shirt.

It was September 1989, and I knew absolutely nobody. It was my freshman year at Auburn, and all of my Decatur friends were either back home or at other schools. Hence, I was on my own when it came to building up a crew of “homies.” Bear in mind that this was initially an exciting prospect, my new found cipher-dom: I knew nobody, but, more important, nobody knew me. They would be unfamiliar with my history as a loudmouthed, overbearing malcontent who tried way too hard to “be” a particular label. I mean, I had gone from Ducky to Ian MacKaye to Rudi Protrudi to Hardy Ramone to Johnny Indie-Prep in the span of 24 months, but they didn’t have to know that. Well, they wouldn’t have to know that once I found them.

I loved music, and at this particular stage in life I was still heavy on the whole Sub Pop scene as well as feeding my requisite addiction to garage punk bands. The bedroom in my Burton Street apartment was crammed with vinyl, and I was chomping at the bit to show off my musical tastes and limited, colored-vinyl singles oh-so-carefully stacked. And this particular September Saturday was going to offer me the perfect opportunity. Bone Dali was playing.

More will be said of Bone Dali in the future, but it needs be noted that, at his juncture, Bone Dali was more than an Auburn institution; they were an Alabama fixation. Sure, our fair state had its share of local bands of worth. Skeletal Earth and the always-possibly-defunct Monster Dog ruled the Huntsville scene, and the name Vacation Bible School seemed to waft out of Birmingham on occasion, but Bone Dali … EVERYBODY knew Bone Dali. This was the time of the slap bass, when all white punks still listened to the Red Hot Chili Peppers and copped to it. And Auburn was the home of Alabama’s funk-noise extravaganza. From Dothan to Decatur, everyone in every scene knew Bone Dali, and, like me, were probably fans even though they had never actually heard the band (please note that this was a recurring trait of mine — I was a HUGE fan of certain bands who I thought looked cool but had never listened to). This night I was finally going to hear them when the show started at 8 o’clock.

I showed up at 6 o’clock.

The show was being held in the backyard of the infamous “Bone Dali House,” a duplex(?) on the corner of West Glenn and Toomer Street. It was called the “Bone Dali House” because, as legend had it, at one time or another all the members had lived there. I wanted to get there early so I could ingratiate myself into their favour and become their new best friend and toady. Instead, I had to stand outside the garage and chain smoke. For a long time.

And that’s when I first met Stuart E.

As I lit yet another Camel, I noticed a tall, lanky, and, yes, TALL guy milling about like myself, smoking cigarette after cigarette. Desperate to have someone to talk to, my mind raced to come up with a pithy conversation starter. All I could say was:

“Hey, man, cool shirt.”

And that’s how it started.

Stuart was wearing a Flaming Lips T-shirt, and we immediately started talking about their recent Sub Pop single, “Drug Machine.” Specifically, we both praised the B-side, a cover of The Sonics’ “Strychnine” that segued seamlessly into “(What’s So Funny ‘Bout) Peace, Love, & Understanding.”

So we stood and talked and smoked as the Autumn sun set, waiting for the band to set up and the garage doors (which led to the sealed-off backyard) to open. As people began to show up and the crackle of amps started to be heard, I came to the realization that the roller coaster ride was about to begin.

Little did I know I was in the kiddie park …

Hardy Gilbert was double-bred to be an Auburn Tiger. His parents met while attending Auburn, insuring a childhood of Autumn afternoon tailgating. Both he and his sister went to school, met their spouses, and now raise their families in the Loveliest Village on the Plains, although Hardy still insists he was hoodwinked by a red-headed devil of a woman. Write to him at hardy@thewareaglereadear.com.

The Haints earn a C+ from stingy Prof. Pitchfork

Hardcore hipsters are finally taking note.

“To Win or To Lose,” the latest album (their second on K Records) by local-ish jug band legends The Pine Hill Haints, recently received a 7.8 from Pitchfork.

That’s a full .3 point bump from “Ghost Dance.”

The Haints have always nipped at their own sound. On To Win or to Lose they find it, each of their deftly carved instruments aimed like pistols at your heels.

To put a Pitchfork 7.8 in perspective for you, the new Modest Mouse only scored only 7.2.

Exactly.

The Haints rock Fred’s Feed & Seed in Loachapolka the Friday (9/18) before the West Virginia game, and headline Saturday night’s victory party at The Independent.