Depending on how you look at it, Aces and Eights either have it made or are totally hopeless. Their blistering style doesn't bother with nonsense or what's hip at the time. It just takes a page from the Motorhead cookbook and follows the simplest of musical recipes: take four, put it on the floor (hard), then shred to taste. It's loud. It's direct. It's badass. And it's almost totally irrelevant to the modern musical climate where glockenspiels and mustaches have replaced sideburns and Marshall stacks. Aces and Eights won't ever make it to the charts, let alone top them. They won't ever headline a stadium. They probably won't even ink a deal. They know. And better, they don't care. Because that's real freedom. As NOFX put it, "not freedom like America, but freedom like a shopping cart." The zeitgeist may be all about experimental pop, but there are always musical luddites who just want to rock—leave your accordions at the door. And for those stubborn holdouts, Aces and Eights is just the thing.
So do they have it made? Or are they hopeless? Or are they both.
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