
An immensely enjoyable Appalachian romp from the Black Twig Pickers, who summon up the same sort of good-time hoedown imagery as The Cherryblossoms, but boast a far greater handle on their instrumental skills. This is an album that manages to set out its stall in its title, with songs like opener 'Crossing The James' or 'Walking In The Parlor' fashioning an unreasonably jaunty campfire sound (is that a washboard I hear?) while other pieces have roots in more melancholy Americana like 'Cherry River Line' and 'Last Kind Word Blues', evoking a sound soaked in railroad gin, and the authenticity of a good old-fashioned bluegrass shambles. Excellent stuff indeed.
-- Boomkat