Us, Asshole
Punk giants on the scene, a three piece where the drummer and guitarist traded instruments and vocals, and a badass woman held it down on the low end and picked up a marching trombone when the song demanded. They were anti-war, anti-corporate, and anti-shitty music. They went where younger demonstrators thought they had invented. They held up one finger in the states and two across the pond. The Sundresses played Austin’s festival a bunch of times. Of course they hoped it would be more than just their honor to. They released three or four albums. They were sometimes workin, sometimes not. It’s hard to condemn oneself to kitted outedness with surplus army implements for fifty years below the line of poverty. But this band despised institutions all the same. They sloshed a groove that made stemware resonate in time and china crack when fuzz kicked in. Some bands project vulnerability, the ‘dresses gave the feeling of a tank. Everything that they had been afraid of they did anyway.
Probably they each had a demon that they exorcized for years. Probably they still do, and bad guys will only ever burn in effigy, but the Bolivian people just voted out their right-wing installation.