Words by Sean Moeller, Illustration by Johnnie Cluney, Recording engineered by Mike Gentry
You will love the New York City band Brothers if you like any of the following, OR all of the following:
Cigarettes, or cigars, either way, just something that you light with fire and place into your mouth.
Motorcycles, the ones that purr or the ones that rattle teeth.
The pats on the back that the devil gives you every so often, when you do something good.
Taverns, dirty ones, with a tiny selection, but exactly what you want to drink copious amounts of.
Boots with stomping soles and jean jackets without sleeves.
Calling girls that you're having sex with mama.
Whiskey by the barrel.
Dogs, any kind.
Gun powder and feeling somewhat desperate.
Hard-fought harmonies pouring out of a bunch of rough around the collar men.
A good, endless night without a care or a plan.
Hangovers - if only because they mean that you went for it the night before.
Wearing the same pair of jeans (or trousers) for a week or two straight because, it's only then, that they feel right.
Tattoos that involve tits.
Professional wrestling, the way it used to be when George "The Animal" Steele was eating white-foam turnbuckles that were mysteriously turning his tongue green and guys like The American Dream Dusty Rhodes was considered an athlete and the crazy fucking this is, he was an athlete.
Loud guitars and punishing drums.
The feeling that you've got a posse.
The feeling that you're not gonna lose, even if you can't win.
Brothers Official Site