Ladyhawk May 1, 2008

With a full length and 12" under their belt, Ladyhawk took up residence in an abandoned farm house behind the shopping mall in the band's childhood hometown of Kelowna, British Columbia, armed only with recording gear, sangria and a piss pot. Two weeks later "Shots" was born. It is an album filled with the cold creaking and ghostly echoes of the old house in the dead of winter. Like a party for the last house standing in a sea of strip malls and condos, surely near the end of its time. "Shots" is the sound of Ladyhawk getting loose, turning up loud, downing a few more and howling at the moon. It evokes the devilish sounds of Goats Head Soup guitars, the honey-slides and howling of Neil Young in his darkest hours, and the phantoms that haunted Roky Erickson at the Holiday Inn.

Experts at bottling the misty mountain ghostly blues offered on their self titled debut, it should be clear, this is not classic rock; this is not southern rock. "Shots" is a step forward toward someplace your compass doesn't point.

Age 18 and over only. Tickets are $10.

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