Langhorne Slim’s music reminds me of the kind I used to see on a Wednesday night for two dollars as a freshman in college back in Athens, GA– and that’s not a bad thing. I remember the Jager shots, having crushes on all the hippie chicks in the bar, and the paralyzing fear that the doorman would retroactively figure out that I had just used the same fake ID* as my other three friends to get in. (And of course I remember the awful, awful dancing– mine and everyone else’s.)
Which is to say that there is decidedly a time and a place for Mr. Slim, though I’m not sure that his latest, Langhorne Slim & The War Eagles, is really it. The songs– reminiscent at times of Van Morrison, and of Exile On Main Street at others, though filtered through a David Gray- type lens– are slightly cliched, and innocuous overall. But oh, how I long for the days when I would have paid to get drunk on shitty keg beer, play pool, and seen them live.
*I’ve written of this before, but it bears repeating here: my fake ID (which was handed down to me through a tradition I am forever sworn to secrecy about) was an old ID of a guy named Justin Gage– his name and stats forever burned into my brain, you can quiz me– and he now lives in Los Angeles and runs one of the best music blogs around, An Aquarium Drunkard. I didn’t know him then, and I don’t know him now, but nonetheless I just think that this is serendipitously hilarious.