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Show Press/Reviews
May 16, 2009
I’m no stranger to small town life, I’ve spent
most of my life in one, so I know the hidden talent that lies behind
those doors, in the locals that feel no need to tour the country
or sign with a major label. The boys of The Flattires are good
examples and from Hickory, NC, where rebel flags and tall boys
prevail.
Their special blend of rockabilly, redneck, punk and metal keeps
the crowds on their feet and the venues filled. Emo kids, hippies
and meddling mothers should steer clear of these ruckus inducers
cause there’s no telling when a fan
fight will break and the boots will start stomping. The rodeo king lead singer
Clint has a few tricks up his sleeve for holding the crowd back I’m sure,
but he’d rather be swigging a beer while he lets loose on “Payin’ Dues”,
a song made for a smokey bar and the rockaphiles that live there.
But send The Flattires to white collar Charlotte and you’ll find that the
bar bitch isn’t ready for their ball busting, spitfire attitude - and their
frenzied fans either. Banned from Puckett’s Farm a few years ago, but never
discouraged, these boys continue to play the Carolinas regularly: The Black Cat,
The Milestone, Gypsy’s. They’ve become notorious for mingling heavily
with the juke joint regulars, raising hell with the heads and getting pelted
with PBR while pumping out furious rock and roll that makes the oldest of old
timers get down.
The Artery Magazine
February 16, 2008
The Flat Tires @ Black Cat, Boone NC
Hickory products The Flat Tires have been burning a path up and down North
Carolina over the past few years, bringing their brand of “mean-ass hellbilly
rock-n-roll” to countless bars across the state. Along the way, they’ve
been banned from a venue or two, being famously labeled “devil-worshippers” by
one club owner. They’ve also made countless legions of fans and put down
more Pabst Blue Ribbon than most of the folks they’ve played for combined.
They’d been regulars at Boone’s Black Cat for a few years, usual
suspects if you will, known to claim before the show “Give us your beer,
your girlfriends and all your money. We’re comin’ you bastards.” This
time around, they brought a couple Boone first-timers along with them in Greensboro’s
The Malamondos and Charlotte’s Jem Crossland & the Hypertonics. What
resulted was one of the best nights of rockabilly badass to come through Western
North Carolina in a long, long time.
First on stage were The Hypertonics, lead by the fantastically costumed and
pompadoured Jem Crossland, who looked as though he’d just got done playing
The Devil in a redux of the Squirrel Nut Zippers music video for “Hell.” After
blazing through a stack of stand-up-bass-thumping originals, Crossland and
the group turned back the clock through a dizzying array of astonishingly well-done
old-time country covers and even a rockabilly version of “Sweet Caroline” that
would have Neil Diamond throwing shoulders through the crowd, double-fisting
PBR tallboys.
Up next were The Malamondos, who from the opening note, loudly made the case
for getting “Garage-Surf-Psychobilly” its own section at your local
record shop. Lead singer Hunny Goodnight, dressed in full evil-Catholic-school-girl
attire, could no doubt be heard several blocks away. The sheer volume of her
voice took a second for the crowd to adjust to, before they quickly realized
that “Hey… wait a second… this chick is badass!” Backed
by Van Serpico on guitar, Mr. Olaf on bass and Hans Valentino on drums, Goodnight
and The Malamondos melted the walls for 45 minutes or so while passing around
a large bowl of condoms and candy, to go with their song titled, you guessed
it, “Condoms and Candy.”
Closing down the night and rendering Black Cat damn near out of beer were The
Flat Tires, a band you have to see live to truly appreciate. Trust me, if they
were playing anywhere in the state right now, you’d probably be able
to hear it, so if you hear evil-sounding honky-tonk guitars, just walk toward
them. Lead by vocalist and former bullrider Clint Harrison, with his slicked
back hair, old-school microphone, muscles and snarl, The Flat Tires are one
of the most energetic and impressive psychobilly acts going around these days.
Besides being absolutely the last band on earth you’d ever want to end
up on the bad side of, these guys flat out rock.
Catch any of these bands at a bar somewhere in NC and you won’t be disappointed
(just hung over).
The Village Idiot
- Matt Davis
May 16, 2007
The Flat Tires It's all about brawls, honky tonk women and booze -- specifically
the working man's elixir, PBR. North Carolina Hellbilly posse the Flat Tires
haul along plenty of tire irons to pound out their brand of country-punk and
rockabilly. They hit the stage with the proverbial pedal to the metal and don't
ease off till the damn thing is riding on fumes. With the Blade of the Ripper,
Glasspack and 2013 Wolves. Milestone Creative
Loafing - Charlotte
- Shukla
January 22, 2007
Flat Out Fun
There's a bunch of kids at Appalachian State University in Boone,
North Carolina, who know how to rock. We found them and they found
us this Saturday at the Black Cat, which is a burrito parlor from lunch
time (breakfast time for students) until after 10 pm when tables and
chairs are moved around, microphones, drums and amps appear; and the
rocking starts.
Invited to play there by the Flat Tires, a redneck/metal/punk-country outfit
out of Hickory, North Carolina, we opened the show, playing to as many people
as the small room could hold. From the start the vibe was great, people were
going crazy, letting the music seize them and drive them. It was the vibe we
travel far and wide to find. And Grace was with us. At the beginning of Randy's
solo on our first song, "Strayway Child", I stepped back and lost
my footing, falling backwards to the left of the drum kit, but still playing
as the MDJs blazed on. Some of my old athleticism aided me in rolling out of
the fall, and back to my feet just in time to get back to the microphone for
the last verse. Cut on my right hand, blood began to flow but nothing was going
to stop us. Any way blood is drama, and this was a "show", not just
some musicians jacking each other off and talking about how brilliant they
are(thus, not Americana). We blasted from one song to another, fueled by the
wildness and drunkeness that increased with each song, until we were done and
the Flat Tires took the stage.
Within minutes, the Hickory-ites picked up where we left off, ratcheting up
the intensity with each song. Separated from the crowd by only the microphone
stands, Clint, the singer, went into the crowd to dance with and sing to them.
At one point, a young man who had had way too much alcohol tried to start a
fight with Clint. As quickly as it started it was done, and a wall of bodies,
mine, Robert and Mark's included, blocked the belligerent drunk from Clint,
and probably spared him a solid ass whipping. Clint is a former rodeo rider
from Texas who is strong as the bulls who used to ride, and who can back up
all the words that spill out of him. It was a moment of drama that could have
stopped a great show in its tracks. Rather than ruin the show, however, it
only added to it, became a part of it, serious but comic. The Flat Tires attempted
to put down their instruments, reminding me a little of how James Brown would
try to leave the stage during "Please, Please, Please", but the crowd
would not let them. So they blazed on until it was all done. It was the kind
of show I relish and the kind I love to be a part of. The cops showed up an
hour later to see about the "fight". Nothing against cops, but when
the place is right and the people know what they are doing, things get taken
care of without them. The folks at The Black Cat know what they are doing.
I was totally floored by the energy and music the Flat Tires cranked out. I
have to laugh when I remember Clint telling me how the Flat Tires were recently
banned from Puckett's Farm Supply in Charlotte because they drove the audience
into a frenzy at a rockabilly show. The owners branded them "devil worshippers" and
swore they would never let them back in. Puckett's, a renowned shit-hole which
has no business trying to be a music venue, and which should just play the
jukebox instead of exposing real people to the idiocy of their clientele, does
not deserve the likes of The Flat Tires or any other musical acts, including
many of the ones who play there now who are really good bands but lack good
venues, and who like all of us who do this stuff, want to play. It speaks positively
to the artistry and talent of the Flat Tires that they would disturb and horrify
the idiots at Puckett's.
Jam banders, pussies and those who take their chairs and coolers out to festivals,
should probably avoid The Flat Tires too. Those who want to rock should catch
their next show. Do not expect any fifteen minute solos; just good, tight,
furious rock and roll. It's loud, and no, fuck you, you probably can't hear
the words, or figure out what the meaning of it is. The meaning is in your
hands and feet and not in your head. The meaning is in the smoke in the room,
the weird paintings on the walls bending and jumping, the bodies swirling,
hopping, swinging, the music pounding out into the street, the drum beat striking
solidly right in the middle of your heart, the smiles and the happiness of
release in faces, and beer cans, big PBR tall boy beer cans flying through
the air, the power of it all charging over dark mountains and rooftops like
a hurricane of pounding hooves.
We'll be playing with The Flat Tires again in Hickory at the Underground on
February 24. Look also for a return to Boone with them soon.
- David Childers
"Hickory products and local rock-bar standards The Flat Tires pack
quite the punch here on Payin’ Dues… Again. Lead by former
professional bull rider Clint Harrison, The Flat Tires are mighty good
at bringing their brand of “Mean-ass hellbilly rock and roll.” Take
a little bit of southern rock, a whole lot of pissed-off punk and enough
country ghosts to fill the “Legends” wall at a Nashville
honky-tonk and you’ve got The Flat Tires.
With his slicked-back hair and vintage microphone, lead singer Clint Harrison
can make you feel as though you stepped into a wrong-side-of-town country bar
circa 1960, while his Flat Tires remind you they could have just as easily
stepped out of a basement show at CBGB’s 25 years later.
Having gained some notoriety for getting banned from a Hickory venue and being
branded by venue ownership as “devil-worshippers,” The Flat Tires
bring what is consistently one of the most entertaining live acts on the NC
bar scene, and fans of their live show will be far from disappointed here on
the album. With song titles like “Bourbon & Whiskey,” “PBR” and “Let
The Devil Out,” Harrison, along with guitarist Brian Smallwood, bassist
Scott Cline and drummer Phil Keller bring the perfect soundtrack to a loud,
angry Saturday night that you won’t remember much of Sunday morning.
Along with being, without a doubt the LAST band on the planet you would ever
want to pick a fight with, The Flat Tires shine on their debut album. I give
it four big angry stars, and I raise my PBR Tallboy high in the air." The Village Idiot
- Matt Davis
Music Reviews VARIOUS ARTISTS: "DRINK. FIGHT. FUCK. VOLUME THREE" Zodiac Killer Records is one of our most consistent sources of louduglydirty
rock & roll, so it only makes sense that the label's Drink. Fight.
Fuck. compilations provide the same sleazy pleasures. Most of  Volume
III is the usual lean and mean punk ‘n' roll mania from the likes
of the Candy Snatchers, the Hip Priests, the Wild Zeros, Kung Fu Killers,
Hooked On Southern Speed, etc., with splashes of psychobilly thrown in. Some
of the most notable cuts have a C&W edge - Utah County Swillers'
Young Dumb and Flat Tires' Payin' Dues...Again nicely kick both shit
and ass. Plus there are enough ringers here to get the attention
of anyone not already on the Zodiac Killer train. Antiseen contributes
a smashing cover of the Sex Pistols' Belsen Was a Gas, the Supersuckers'
Eddie Spaghetti (whose band is the likely inspiration for about half
of ZK's roster) weighs in on some Killer Weed, the Dwarves' Blag Dahlia
lays down his own country honk with Bitch I Love You (not the Black Joe
Lewis song) and Hellstomper hits with You're Gonna Kill That Girl, the
last song the band ever recorded. (Though for my money King's new group
Polecat Boogie Revival is the superior entity, as evidenced by Barefoot
at Lamar's.) At 32 tracks, this collection is almost too much of a good
thing, but excess is the point, right? Well, that, and, as the Broadsiders
put it , Booze, Sex, and Breakin' Necks. SLEAZEGRINDER.COM
- MICHAEL TOLAND
The Flat Tires
Payin’ Dues... Again North Carolina’s favorite hellbillies are back…again. This
time they unleash a fury of ass-kicking, nitro honky tonk that turns
the trailer upside down like a tornado spinning full of combat boots
and concrete blocks!
The self-titled first track, Payin’ Dues…Again comes at
you like an elbow in the nose as singer Clint Harrison force-feeds you a clairvoyant
hellride into a night of drinking and partying knowing that the dues will be
due in the morning. “I’m seeing black spots and little pink dots
and my knees are a shakin’ – I’m pretty damned sure I’m
payin’ my dues again,” Harrison pleads. This song is just
the introduction to the Flat Tires electrocution style of honky tonk and segways
into their best sounding album to date!
PBR is a love song to the devil’s liquid - alcohol. Guitarist Bryon
Smallwood chops away with confidence and adds a heavy, yet controlled sound
to the Flat Tire’s sound. He is a great addition to the band. Payin’ Dues…Again
continues it’s nasty habits, this time it’s in the bedroom where
break-up sex never sounded so good…or dirty when Scream bleeds through
the speakers. The disc rocks on with my favorite ditty, Bourbon Whisky. Here
drummer Phil Keller and bassist Scott Cline drive this groove-laden rapture
as Harrison explains the positive numbing affects of whiskey. It’s
a good ol’ Flat Tires, goddamned good time.
The Flat Tires, who now think of Charlotte as their hometown, are the region’s
ONLY hellbilly band worth picking your ass up off the sofa and getting out
to see them live. Talk about a good time; moshing, flying beer and a shower
of empty cans being tossed at the band makes their live show a visual overload
and physical beating, even if you stand in the back and don’t throw one
can. Harrison has the way of sucking the life out of you. If Satan
were to front a band, it would be this one……wait a minute.
Back to the disc, more honky TANK ensues with Let the Devil Out and On the
Loose, two more hardcore classics. The infamous Hypocrite pounds out next,
as a big fuck you to all of those who have crossed the Tires. Hypocrite
is the Holy Grail of this album. It say’s it all about their sound,
their attitudes and their straightforward style. “You are a real
true friend? Then you’re full of shit, cause your best friend’s
girlfriend sucked your dick,” Harrison preaches. This song makes
my spine cringe for its hell-fueled anger. It’s almost like they
are coming to get you and I LOVE IT!
My hat goes off to the Flat Tires for one Helluva an album! A job well
done. You have to pick up a copy of Payin’ Dues…Again at
www.TheFlatTires.com. Either that or get in line for an ass kicking. Mark - rockabillybabe.com
The Flat Tires
Gettin’ Nowhere Fast
I remember being stunned. I was off balance and confused. Did that
really just happen or had I dreamed it up? Had I just lived through a
brush with death, or did I just stumble away from a Flat Tires show? That
is the way I felt 22 seconds after the Flat Tires bid farewell the night of
the Rockabilly BBQ pre party in June. I have never heard a band capture
true southern punk-a-billy like the Flat Tires have.
I grew up with honky tonk and punk rock, but as I got older I moved to more
of the traditional rockabilly sound. So I am a bit jaded with what some
folks call punk or honky tonk or rockabilly, for that matter. Most of
the time the bands just don’t get what all this is about. Not these
Tires. They never went flat, not once. So when singer, Clint Harrison,
gave me a copy of the CD, I couldn’t wait to hit the keyboard.
With the introduction of Pretty Lady, the Flat Tires hammer the coffin nail
of hardcore dating with conclusion of “I got one more load and it’s
rarin’ to go”. No hardcore Bettie or New South Southern belle
could possibly keep up with Clint’s demands. With his hopped up,
honky tonk voice, Clint had me hooked.
Getting’ Nowhere Fast moved into guy territory with Five Finger Date
and the ideology that a five-finger date is way the hell cheaper than wasting
your money on a high class sponge. Grab a remote control, a video tape
and call it a date. Been there, done that.
Since the Flat Tires played the BBQ, this thing has been in rotation every
day. The CD quickly moves into Rag On. Rag On is a tribute to, well,
you know. The Tires explain their understanding of the monthly hell cycle
and the events that take place therein.
With Two of Three Things, the Flat Tires lets us all know that 2 of 3 things
will be happening tonight – getting drunk, getting laid or getting in
a fight. “Two of thing of three things are happening now, are happening
tonight with me,” Harrison demands. His lowbrow threats and nothing
to lose attitude causes this song to reek of testosterone.
I can’t keep commenting on every song, but all these songs are great. With
Lee Osborne on guitar, Phil Keller on drums and Scott Cline slapping the bass,
it’s hard to deny that I was handed the best punk-a-billy CD of 2006. Knowing
my background, I would have never thought that this band of rouges would pull
off a CD that would get my undying attention.
On with the menace, Sugar Shack plows into the speakers with a stripper’s
worse nightmare, a band of hellbillies on a spending spree. Meanwhile,
Monday describes the day after such a night. This fast-paced downtrodden
song of despairs about having to show up to work after a hell-bent weekend
of partying drives the point home.
I hated to end the CD as much as I hate to end this review, but all good things
come to an end. The difference between my words and this CD is I can start
the CD over again and get different meaning out of it each time. Mark - rockabillybabe.com |
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