The Dagg Nabbit Stubbs inhabits a world of myth. It is a realm of demon trucks, swamp gas-induced hallucinations and pancake dinners gone horribly wrong. The five songs on the band's new EP, The Eagle's Greatest Hits, are whiskey-fueled garbage-fire stories told through metal-tinged southern rock. Imagine Creedence as a Guns 'n Roses cover band.
Can you think of a guitar riff from a rock song in the past 30 years? You can probably think of quite a few. Well, they're all here. Opener “Riffosaurus Rock,” a nine-minute epic touching on roughly 70% of all rock music ever, sets the tone. It sets the bar, too. Not only are the riffs present. They are amazing. And put together well enough to make nine minutes seem like three.
The Dagg Nabbit's stellar musicianship is only half their story. The other? They're fucking hilarious. I've always had a problem with “funny” songs, getting bored after a listen or two. But I can listen to The Eagle's Greatest Hits all day. I find new things to laugh at with every listen, and the aforementioned musicianship makes the songs a joy to hear.
You may think the mythological events I mentioned earlier were just some music critic silliness. Nope. Demon trucks and the like really are part of this EP, along with tractor pulls sponsored by Summer's Eve and a place called Bitch Street. A very scary place.
Since starting this article, I have learned that The Dagg Nabbit Stubbs are breaking up. According to their Facebook page, they have one last show on at Hollywood Alley in Mesa. June 18th in Mesa. Be there. Seriously. It'll be worth it.
It will be sad to see the band go. But the myths in their songs will keep the garbage-fire fueled with stories for a long, long time.
