West End Motel is a conglomerate of losers and poets and hobo-sexuals. Tom Cheshire met Brent Hinds in Atlanta on a corner under a bridge in 1993. They were panhandling and drinking cough syrup and songs just started spewing out of them. Songs were written on an acoustic guitar and a bucket for drums with the occasional toy piano in the background. Much booze was consumed and late nights turned into early mornings. They write and sing for the underdog and give the listener a glimmer of hope.
Lire la suite
West End Motel is a conglomerate of losers and poets and hobo-sexuals. Tom Cheshire met Brent Hinds in Atlanta on a corner under a bridge in 1993. They were panhandling and drinking cough syrup and songs just started spewing out of them. Songs were written on an acoustic guitar and a bucket for drums with the occasional toy piano in the background. Much booze was consumed and late nights turned into early mornings. They write and sing for the underdog and give the listener a glimmer of hope. Originally the band wanted to sound like Simon and Garfunkel hanging out with Ethel Merman but the end result sounds more like Nick Cave fronting Gogol Bordello. The songs have taken on a life of their own and have never sounded the same twice. The music is honest, like a Filipino kid tap dancing in the wind. Throw Mike Shina, Stiff Penalty and Ben Thrower into the mix and you got yourself a good time. Now they officially are a band and are about to get down to business. 2011 is their year and they are on a mission with no luggage. The band took over the streets of Brooklyn in the Fall of 2010. There were rich men and housewives and home bums and a garbageman dancing in the street. They killed the West Coast in January of 2011. Next is the world. These men love music, it is that simple and they write for people who love music. They write songs of loss and laughter and maybe even a new lease on life. They are a gospel band, they are a soul band, they are a band of gypsies. Do yourself a favor and check this now. -PRC
