You have to be really good or really unique to make that retro rockabilly/country/Sun Records thing worth listening to, and I have to say that poor Miss Izzy Cox is neither. I wanted to like the clumsy playing, weak singing, clunky lyrics and clueless American-Idol-tryout ego ("this is one of my classics"), because really, I like the underdog and the weirdo, but I don't know, man. It all rings false and forced.
But I will spearhead a drive to collect enough money to buy her a god damned guitar tuner. It's the least I can do.
You know, being in tune doesn't even matter, but there has to be something behind it. This is so - nothing - that it offends me. Maybe that's why I can't stop typing, even though it's very early and I should still be sleeping.