Those Darlins
Danger Comes In Threes
Mar 19, 2009
Words by Sean Moeller
Illustration by Johnnie Cluney
Sound engineering by Mike Gentry
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Red Light Love
Unreleased
We recorded at Daytrotter in mid-January and since it was our first time in the Quad Cities area we made sure to time our visit with a huge snowstorm that dropped a foot of snow to make sure we got the full experience of an Illinois winter. We played Chicago the night before and it was a relief to arrive at the Daytrotter studio to meet Mike the engineer, Sean who writes most of the stuff, and Phil who is just plain awesome. I hadn't ever thought much about what Rock Island, Ill., might be like but was really impressed to meet people who had invested in their town and made such a cool scene with Daytrotter.
They told us to make ourselves at home and Mike presented us with a wall of amps from which we could choose to record with. I was thrilled to try each one and my favorite was an awesome 1957 Fender that looked like a Bassman amp that he explained was purchased at a yard sale for some ridiculous amount (something like $10). Everything we put through it sounded incredible, though for bass I ended up using one of the other amps for a little cleaner sound. We began plugging in and getting levels, warming up our hands after loading in and getting settled.
We tracked three Darlins originals: "Red Light Love" a Ramones-style pop song (and the single off of our upcoming album), "Hung Up On Me" a done-me-wrong-honky-tonk song with a B-52s dance beat, and "Glass To You" a really sad song about toasting the love who has left you because you fucked up. We also cut "Who's That Knockin On My Window?" a Carter Family song we reinterpreted in a rock'n'roll blues style. We listened back to a few things and after a hard night's work went out for a nightcap at the only bar left open in Rock Island. We almost got kicked out due to Phil's unruly behavior but he more than made up for it the next morning by bringing us all doughnuts. Our next show was in Boston so we began our 18-hour journey and were very sad to have to leave our new friends. We're all at SXSW as I write this and plan to kick it out hard when we meet back up with Daytrotter! Thanks guys for being such bad asses.
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Who's That Knocking At My W…
Unreleased
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Hung Up On Me
Unreleased
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A Glass To You
Unreleased
Once in a while you meet a woman who has the sort of impossible-to-fend-off influence, the alluring presence to bend you as easily as a sledge could pound a ball of cookie dough into something entirely different in dimension, look and feel. This story involves not one, but three women of those exact characteristics, three women who have broken the spirits of weak men and strong men alike, who have doubled over more than their share of those men in excruciating pain, who have never done anything at all that they haven't been completely behind - that hasn't involved hedonism of epic proportions and the kind of effortless debauchery that makes everyone who hears about it later jealous. Those Darlins are a four-piece band from Tennessee, led by three absolute devils, firecrackers who could sweet-talk their way into as much trouble as they could handle. Kelley Darlin, Jessi Darlin and Nikki Darlin chronicle it all in their songs, going down the storytelling route of the outlaws that came before them (the hard ass men and women who messed a lot of their life and others up, but still laughed and carried on heartily through it all), giving themselves all of the alcoholic lubrication that would be needed to pull off all of the embellishments and get to that point in the night where they've forgotten more than they'll ever remember the next day, when their temples are splitting and their voices sound as rough as a hog's hide. Kelly Darlin sings, "Drinkin' and pain go hand-in-hand," and there's no determination if that's part of a chicken and egg riddle or it's just a declaration of fact. It happens so often in Darlins music that there's no clear-cut understanding - the drinking's always there as an elixir and as an anti-depressant candy. It's both the boon and the bane of any of the backfiring interactions that they've gotten mixed up in with (mainly) men who can't handle their wooly, scrappy ways. They probably get drunk under the table by these ladies too, whose capacity for the adult beverages can be confirmed from eyewitness testimony. They're like three cacti, three spit storms and three ladies of the rodeo that every man could recognize as being dangerous commodities and not worth the trouble, but that doesn't usually stop men and that's why Venus flytraps work as well. There is everything enticing about Those Darlins as they dare you to come closer, to lean in, to buy them another round and then you're sunk, but there will be a good tale to spin when you've come to. Those Darlins, singing about being snaggle-toothed mamas without any shoes, having corncrib daddies and living so far out in the country that the milk's gone sour by the time they arrive home, are an intoxicating blend of country fire and homespun charm and without knowing what's happening, you're suddenly smitten by their Wanda Jackson-ish ways and their tasty June Carter modes, had June Carter actually been Johnny and killed a man in Reno just to watch him die - amongst other things. The music is built ramshackle and yet sturdy like that old house that is still standing in spite of the odds and in deference to its sagging floors, drafty walls and muskiness. Out behind that house is a pyramid of empty cans and bottles, all with a story to tell, all probably flung aside like an outcast, a failure when the last drop slipped from its glass belly. It's just on to the next victim and the next headache.
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