Razzor Dixxon ~ Self-Titled
Date: Saturday, February 03, 2007 @ 13:50:23 UTC

Artist: Razzor Dixxon

CD: Self-Titled

Home: Nashville, Tennessee

Style: Country Rock/Bluegrass

Quote: "If there’s the slightest bit of country in your soul, or if you just need a bit of gospel healing with a beer chaser, this is your album."

By Jennifer Layton

I was halfway through this CD, boot-stomping across my kitchen, swigging root beer (the good stuff – Barqs), and gearing up for one big ol’ yeeeeee-haaaw before I realized two things: I have upstairs neighbors who have already threatened to kill me several times since I took up review writing, and I actually need to sit down and write this review. Which meant I had to turn the CD off for a few minutes. Because there’s no way I can sit still and write while listening to Razzor Dixxon fiddle and strum and whoop and holler and ... um, whatever the cool verb is for harmonica-playing.

Razzor Dixxon is made up of Dale Lepiarz, Doug Smith, and a bunch of their fellow musicians who seem to love bluegrass and Southern rock as much as they do. This CD is the real deal. It’s fun, it’s touching, and it has a running “souls on the edge” theme that kicks in a bit of gospel. Well-meaning wayward souls populate these lyrics, but there’s a sly sense of humor about them that keeps the guilt from ruining everything.

Take “Guilt by Association,” a kicked-out, growling dance-floor scorcher about tornados and freight trains and drinking and fighting. The chorus contains one of the best spiritual pleas I’ve ever heard:

Hey, St. Peter Boy! Please make no mistake,
I’m just selling candy apples at the gate ...

Another great example is from the razor-sharp harmonica-fueled “Time to Decide.” The first chorus tells us “I’m somewhere between Jesus and a real good lawyer.”

Razzor Dixxon can also do the road songs that will make you want to get into your car, find the nearest highway, and rev up a cloud of dust. The opener “Just Thinkin’ About It” details a journey across Texas, dragging the muffler all the way to El Paso. I love the cheery fiddle, the guitars that drawl even more than the vocals, and the image of a girl doing a “beauty pageant wave to all the truckers rolling by.” We also get the clever and sweet “Mary Rides Shotgun” about a grandma who’s way too old to be driving.

If there’s the slightest bit of country in your soul, or if you just need a bit of gospel healing with a beer chaser, this is your album. As soon as the upstairs neighbors leave for church, this is going back on full-blast.

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