The main reason this CD originally caught my eye was the front cover -- the "Boy with Rooster" is one of those symbols of my youth, ya see. The painting still hangs in my Dad's kitchen to this day; it's right over the sink, masked in anonymity. And while I certainly wasn't raised on a farm or brought up on whiskey-bred country or ass-whippin’ bluegrass, this Boston-based band definitely takes its sound from the classic artists of those genres. With fiddle, trombone, slide guitar and the lowly singing saw, the Dormouse Choir joins country-billy with the contemporary sounds of personal-demon-purging and heavy beer-swilling activities. You know, think of Southern Culture on the Skids...or even better, The Bad Livers.

Vocalist Dormouse hails from somewhere in the Appalachians, and his knee slappin' delivery and rustic voice add a unique flavor to each of the five songs here. Even more peculiar are the twisted lyrics that merrily impart wisdom on topics like beer, sin, drugs and, er...more beer. "Cry Me a Liver" will have you howling along in miserable yet cheerful pain as Dormouse guffaws along with zippy fiddle playing and rambunctious trombone interjections that'll make you wish you were somewhere else...drunk as all hell and tearing down the walls. Racing out of the stable, opener "Cartoon Wedding" showcases the dark, 100% hick side of the choirmaster and shows what happens when a thick 'n' steady rhythm section creates the perfect syncopated beat. You're sure to be smilin' and yelping along after one run, pattin' your overalls and clamoring about like some sort of loony-tick. As everything speeds up, your vision gets blurry; the room starts spinning and you’re slumped on the floor in a pool of sweaty happiness. Perhaps this is what it was like back in the time of The Grapes of Wrath?

While the band has connections with local faves Papas Fritas and Syrup USA, there's absolutely no need for name-dropping; this Choir can stand its own ground quite well without the help of any extra-hip credentials. So whether you're fixin' to head on down to the barn or need a bit of joviality to take your head outta the slop, Tonight We Drink With Orphans is your cure-all. Don't let that nutty ol' medicine man tell you otherwise -- this is the stuff that makes men outta boys and poor mothers cry incessantly about their kids' doomed future. The only thing that'll disappoint ya is that the CD player stops at five! Go on, git yerself one of them now. Git I say, git!