the Wyatts

By Cathalena E. Burch

Tucson's wacky and rising country outfit the Wyatts are getting into the holiday music spirit.
The cowboy-hat-clad quartet is serving up holiday spirit Old Pueblo-style in "Merry Christmas Darlin'," a quirky, rockabilly-flavored, country swing romp. There's piano, acoustic guitars and lap steel guitar and upright bass, played by Nashville royalty Chris Scruggs, grandson of Earl Scruggs. Scruggs was in Tucson to work on a recording project at Wavelab Studio with the producer Craig Schumacher.

You'll be two-stepping and sipping eggnog well into the new year.
The song's available online at www.wyattstheband.com or iTunes.
Expect the band's sophomore release, "The Continuing Saga of the Wyatts, Volume 1," next spring. - Arizona Daily Star

The Wyatts release Christmas CD single while band works on EP

Local band The Wyatts has a present for fans: a new, original Christmas song.

The single, "Merry Christmas Darlin'," features guest musicians Chris Scruggs on upright bass and lap steel guitar and Nick Luca on guitar and piano.
"The Wyatts strike again with their vision of combining the honesty of country music's past with pop-infused sounds of the present," writes the band in a news release.
According to member Jim "Jimbo" Howell, the band and producer Craig Schumacher thought it would be a good idea to release the holiday single while the group finishes its EP set for release in early 2007.
"Merry Christmas Darlin' " is available locally at Hears Music, 2508 N. Campbell Ave., and online at www.wyattstheband.com and at Apple's iTunes. - Tucson Citizen

By GENE ARMSTRONG

You, too, can be a Wyatt--but you probably should like whiskey

You might not expect it from such a rough-and-tumble-looking bunch, but the members of the rockin' country band The Wyatts have more on their minds than guitars and beer.

During the course of a recent rambling, whiskey-fueled interview in a chic downtown restaurant (the employees of which patiently tolerated our party past closing time), four of the band's five members held forth on such topics as global warming, the difference between Macs and PCs, self-marketing, the philosophy of pop culture, radio formats and a social climate that leads to increasing fragmentation of musical tastes.

In a brief pause in the conversation, guitarist Boudreaux Wyatt remarked, "I had no idea we were so deep."

"I know," said singer, guitarist and songwriter Roscoe Wyatt. "We usually talk about hookers and booze."

One of them then shouted, "Waffles and blowjobs!"

Quickly enough, they were back to relating tales of tequila madness and pre-performance Jâgermeister courage.

The Wyatts are being honored this year as Tucson's best band, as voted by the readers of the Tucson Weekly, at the Tucson Area Music Awards (TAMMIES).

The band's spirited sense of humor is no doubt as popular with listeners as its category-defying urban brand of country rock and Roscoe's charming, catchy tunes.

"We're not a Top 40 country band; we're not a straight rock band, and we're not Americana. I think it's rare in music today to get stuck in a genre," Roscoe declaimed.

"I guess the closest thing you could call us is we're loosely a honky-tonk band, but there is a lot of rock influence there. In the space of three songs, you'll hear influences such as George Jones, Hank Williams, AC/DC and Black Sabbath, only played with cowboy hats."

Listening to The Wyatts' debut CD, one gets a vibe not unlike that of Arizona power-house pop-rock bands, such as Roger Clyne and the Peacemakers or maybe Dead Hot Workshop, with lots of twang and vinegar.

The Wyatts' motto, in fact, is "Tone, Truth, Twang." It appears on their CD, their T-shirts and the plastic sheriff's badges handed out to fans and friends.

One thing's certain: The Wyatts are devoted to their growing fan base, which consists both of party-hearty college students and older honky-tonk fans. The group gigs everywhere from Old Tucson to Frog and Firkin.

"Of course, there are a lot of people our parents' age who come down to see us, especially at Old Tucson, who want to hear the old honky-tonk music, something with melody and harmony. We give them traditional stuff they can't find anywhere else," Roscoe said, talking a mile a minute.

"It's the whiskey," he explained.

As many listeners may well know, The Wyatts claim to all be related, thus the Ramones-like shared surname,

Said Roscoe, "We all have the same father. He was a traveling salesman who spread his fuckin' seed. I think there were eight marriages all together, and the last time we sat down to think about it, we figured there were 22 siblings, 13 of which are sisters. It's kind of sick and disgusting."

The Wyatts began two years ago when the nascent group had recorded a few songs in Country Mac's living room, said Roscoe. "We said, 'I think we got something here,' and I said I thought we needed to get a band together then."

Roscoe teamed with "brothers" Jimbo "JVD" Wyatt on drums, Country Mac Wyatt on bass and Johnny Guitar Wyatt on, well, guitar. Johnny and Country Mac have moved on to other projects.

With producer Tim David Kelly, they finished an 11-song album, titled The Wyatts, which was released in the spring of 2005, and started playing out. The bulk of the album was recorded with the Apple software GarageBand.

"Half of that album would not have gotten made without Macs," Roscoe said. "Thanks, Steve Jobs!"

Even though these guys goof on each other constantly, they don't take music lightly.

"We still rehearse at least twice a week," said Jimbo, who also plays with Rich Hopkins and the Luminarios and has done time in bands such as Lord Primate and Truck.

These days, the lineup includes Roscoe, Jimbo, Boudreaux, bassist Outlaw Wyatt and Li'l Joey T. Wyatt on guitar.

Outlaw is a journeyman musician who has played with everything from blues bands to heavy-metal acts. Boudreaux also has played with Loveland and Jelly. Roscoe fronted a band that carried his name, among other groups. A couple of the guys also teach music.

All live in Tucson except for Li'l Joey T., who isn't that little at 6 foot 5 inches tall, and who resides in the sprawling valley two hours north of here.

The storied Wyatt name is something worth sharing, too. Recording engineers, occasional guest musicians and fans are bestowed their own Wyatts moniker.

Pedal steel guitarist Neil Harry, something of a legend in these parts, is known to sit in at times, when he is called Rusty Wyatt. The group's sound guy is Sluggo Wyatt.

And every fan who registers as a "friend" on the band's MySpace page becomes a Wyatt. "Everybody can be a Wyatt if they want it bad enough," said Boudreaux.

"It's like the Kiss Army back in the 1970s," said Roscoe.

"A girl signed up today," Jimbo added. "And now she's called Chingona Wyatt. She chose that name, by the way."

Making flyers, monitoring the Web site, networking with musicians and fans--the members of The Wyatts take their chosen vocation seriously.

"We approach this band as a job, and we have respect for that," Roscoe said.

The guys in the band know mainstream listeners aren't about to make The Wyatts a household name, but fame isn't important to these guys. Really.

"We just want to make a living doing this and not have to do a day job," said Roscoe, who works by day as a graphic designer.

"I just want to pay my bills," said Outlaw. "And I think I might be able to start soon."

Just the whiskey talking? - Tucson Weekly

by POLLY HIGGINS

Michael Drabousky and Brian Anderson were tired of playing in bands. Considering they still wanted to do music, this posed a bit of a problem.
But they had been in enough projects over the years to wonder if they would ever really find that magic combination of people who were actually in sync in terms of drive, let alone chemistry and personality. Not to jump ahead and reveal their current genre of choice, but it was like your stereotypical country song: Maybe that kind of love just didn't exist.
So, early last year, Drabousky and Anderson did what any 30-somethings with accumulated instruments and a decent musical jones would do: They pulled out the 4-track. The plan was to put on their cowboy hats and record a handful of songs. If they ended up playing out, they would hire people. There was just one problem.
"I remember recording and thinking, I want to be in this band," singer-guitarist Drabousky says.
With that dirty, four-letter word in the back of their minds, Drabousky and bassist Anderson approached drummer Jim Howell, who, in turn, happened to see John Oxley the next night. In May 2004, the Wyatts - Roscoe (Drabousky), Country Mac (Anderson), Jimbo (Howell) and Johnny Guitar (Oxley) - were a b-a-n-d band.
A year later, The Wyatts have a full-length CD, a nice chunk of gigs lined up and a forward-moving trajectory that each attributes to equal parts hard work and harmony.
"There's no resistance. I've never been in a band like that," Roscoe says. "The amazing thing about this band is that things just keep falling into place."
The phrase "with age comes wisdom" comes up a lot in an interview with the quartet. As proof, all four offer up what, to them, have been nontraditional approaches to music-making.
For one, there's the genre. The members had pretty much stayed close to rock or pop-rock in their previous musical lives, Anderson in Nevershine, Howell in Truck. Jimbo says he's drawn to country because of "the hon"
The Wyatts also didn't follow the fairly typical road of booking a show and then hustling to write enough songs to fill out a passable set. "Before we played out, we had two sets of songs," Johnny notes.
And, while many bands tend to rest on the work of one or two members, The Wyatts have no divas and no slackers. Tasks are divided - Jimbo books shows, Roscoe handles marketing, etc. - and, perhaps most importantly, everyone in the band shows up for practices with the same drive.
Jimbo, well he's philosophical about it all: "If you work really hard with something, then the opportunities will come to you."
One of those proverbial knocks came with The Wyatt's inclusion on the "United States of Americana," a Shut Eye Records comp that came out early this year. Their contribution was "24 Miles," a tightly arranged song that has a sneaky hookiness to it, thanks to the band's penchant for harmonizing and backing vocals.
The Wyatts, of course, also make opportunities for themselves, hustling their music to radio (that's mostly Country Mac's job) so that they can claim to be on nearly 20 playlists, including at KXCI (91.3-FM) and similarly minded stations. "I have a map, with the little pins in it," Johnny offers. The pins are particularly dense it the Northeast, northern Midwest and California. "In Berkeley, I figured they would run as soon as they saw cowboy hats."
In recent years, though, country music has begun to go through the same kind of rediscoveries that rock has. Overproduced, increasingly hybridized versions of both genres still dominate radio, but, as the music industry deals with mounting financial woes, acts with a keen eye for the past have become increasingly attractive. They pose an alternative, but they're also, generally, a lot cheaper. The Faith Hill machine is slightly more expensive than, say, a Lucinda Williams.
Of course, the bread and butter for a Williams is on the road, and The Wyatts are taking an understandably cautious approach, for now concentrating on live shows at home. Again with the 30-something-ness, all have jobs, three have wives ("I'm the only one not stupid enough," Johnny says), and Jimbo has a bambino on the way.

"It has to be more on our terms," the soon-to-be father says.
Those terms, for now, include practicing twice a week at a space near Glenn Street and Dodge Boulevard, persisting at their designated band-business tasks and enjoying what they all feel has evolved from a mere band into a brotherhood.

"We didn't think we'd find four people on the same page," Country Mac says. "And the whole brotherhood has become so important." - Tucson Citizen

by Annie Holub

Up and Coming artists The Wyatts are related on many levels

Spend some time with The Wyatts, and several things become clear: They love music; they love talking about music, and they love their band. Heck, they even love each other--according to Johnny Guitar Wyatt, the band members are all long-lost brothers.

"People don't believe this," said Johnny Guitar, "but all of us possess the surname Wyatt--Johnny Guitar Wyatt, Jimbo Wyatt, Roscoe Wyatt, Country Mac Wyatt. What happened was, we sort of kept running into each other, and ... it kind of seemed logical that we'd play together. And we've done a bit of research, and it turns out Dad sort of got around, so we are, in fact, all related."

"Dad worked for Sears as a traveling salesman," added Roscoe.

The Wyatts are old hands at creating band biographies--you may recognize Jimbo Wyatt from Truck; he also plays drums with Rich Hopkins. Country Mac Wyatt was in Nevershine; Johnny Guitar and Roscoe have been played in various bands for years. While they may not really be brothers, they found a kinship in each other's musical interests, and The Wyatts were born.

The Wyatts reach way back to when country and rock were virtually the same thing--their songs are country in their subject matter and style, but strip away the slide guitar, twang, cowboy hats and boots, and at the core is good, old-fashioned rock 'n' roll. They recorded their self-titled debut with Tim David Kelly (Kicking Harold), and the record is full of sweet and smooth country melodies layered over hard-rocking guitar, bass and drums. Live, the country twinge is dwarfed by the rock element--in their hats and boots, The Wyatts make rocking like this look easy.

"It's more of a retro-country mixed with modern pop-rock," said Country Mac.

"It has the classic sadness of classic country," added Roscoe.

The band has been enjoying some attention here in town--KXCI has been playing the new record, and they're gradually getting more local shows. But out of town is a whole other story. "24 Miles" is also included on the first issue of The United States of Americana, a compilation released by Shut Eye Records, and that song was No. 1 two weeks ago on the request list of a commercial station in Corpus Christi, Texas.

"We're actually getting more of a response outside of our own state, which is sad, but cool," said Roscoe. Being voted Up and Coming Band of the Year in this year's Readers' Choice TAMMIES (and finishing as a runner up in the Critics' Choice), though, might make them change their minds about the kind of response they're getting on a local level.

The national response The Wyatts are getting in the roots-rock, Americana realm is exciting for the band. They're selling their record independently through their Web site (www.wyattstheband.com) and marketing themselves to radio stations.

"We've found with the advent of the Internet and its application, we can be a self-existing musical enterprise," said Jimbo. "We call ourselves entrepreneurial rock.'"

Success and fame aside, The Wyattsare most excited about the music and the band they've created together. It's not everyday that a group of musicians can work together as well as they do toward a common goal.

"We all understand exactly who The Wyatts are; we are all 110 percent behind each of the songs we've chosen to play," said Roscoe. "We don't have the internal road blocks."

"We're all allowed to be what we are musically," said Jimbo. "I think this band is able to capture everybody's true essence and allow that to be a part of what we do."

"We have stumbled upon a brilliant situation," said Johnny Guitar.

"Things have fallen into place all on their own," said Roscoe.

"He's saying God's a Wyatts fan," said Country Mac. - Tucson Weekly

The Wyatts hope the return of a lost brother and a successful new album will take them to the next level

By LINDA RAY

Just call me Linda Ray Wyatt.
I admit I'm skeptical about the name thing. These guys are great players with good songs and a compelling act. For the second year in a row, they are the TAMMIES Readers' Choice Band/Musician of the Year. The stage names and goofy bios seem superfluous.

What on Earth do they have to hide?

"We like the idea of, 'Everybody is a Ramone'," says Wyatts co-founder Jimbo, "at the same time, building into, like, the Kiss army thing, where everybody who's a fan is part of the group also. Everybody wants to be part of something, so anybody can be a Wyatt. We have fans come up and tell us their Wyatt name."

Co-founder Roscoe Wyatt expands on the philosophy.

"It's about inclusion, and that was one of the first things we really wanted to do. But we didn't just want to be a band. I mean, we had the music, but we were all good friends, and it's just a great small town, so we wanted it to be bigger. And the way you make things bigger is to present yourself bigger. It's the basic part of doing business. So coming up with the idea of being brothers just leads to a great story. It leads to curiosity."

It also leads to a collection of fictitious band bios that are hard to keep straight. Recalling a recent show in Williams (west of Flagstaff), Roscoe recounts, "I slipped up and told one of the ladies that (the band resulted from) only five marriages, and she told me, 'Fake, you're a fake! Your dad had seven wives!' I was like 'Oh! Well we're mad at the other two right now.'

"So it is something that people really grab a hold of. I mean, in order to be successful, you have to be remembered for what you're doing."

Given the size of their fan base, the Wyatts are obviously being remembered for their performances as well. Their live act is all about entertainment; the energy and humor they project is infectious enough to keep the crowd moving. That translates into lots of beers sold, which makes them equally popular with club owners.

As a result, the Wyatts are, at the moment, barely skirting the dreaded "bar band" label. The redemption of a popular, national record release has thus far eluded them, but may be forthcoming in the wake of their new, seven-song The Continuing Saga of the Wyatts, Volume One, voted by readers as the TAMMIES Best New Release.

The band's eponymous 2005 debut seemed destined to impel their career beyond Tucson. It won airplay on 200 radio stations nationwide, but personnel issues prevented the Wyatts from capitalizing on it. Roscoe explains: "We released that CD. We got picked up by Shut Eye Records. We were on the radio the entire summer of 2005, and it was time to go to tour."

But a sudden family emergency left them without a bass player, and the tour evaporated during the efforts to find a replacement. "We just couldn't find anyone else who was willing to give 120 percent, whether it was desire, commitment or the ability within themselves to take their lives to that level."

What luck that a lost "brother," in the form of Marcus Wyatt, about that time relocated to the Tucson area from Seattle. A veteran bassist, Marcus has toured with Hank Williams III and performed for years with the legendary Bad Livers and Danny Barnes, that band's co-founder.

Marcus' bluegrass ethic, in both touring and musicianship, should have the Wyatts' fortunes turned around in short order. It doesn't hurt that he's also equipped with a touring van.

Says Marcus of the Wyatts, "(They're) really good players, really cool folks to work with. They have a goal, which is kinda nice. Rather than just getting drunk, they actually want to go and make something out of their songs. I quit two jobs to be in this band."

For the band's part, Roscoe says, "We're happy Marcus is here, because we're starting to go, 'Wow, this is somebody like us! This is the guy we've been waiting for, for three years.' That's what's been holding us back from touring, and we just released this new CD, and we should be out doing something with that."

The Continuing Saga of the Wyatts, Volume One, was, to some degree, a casualty of the continuing bass-player saga; its seven tracks were intended to be 12. But what remains should put the band back on a growth track. Apart from the improved production, courtesy of Wavelab Studio, Continuing Saga is an extension of the Wyatts' near-miss debut. Nearly every track is steeped in the blues, soul and R&B underpinnings of the traditional country sound that started with Jimmie Rodgers. None of the Wyatts are yodeling--yet--but the foundation of their music is clearly drawn from the pre-country-pop era.

For all of that, neither the Wyatts' sound nor their performance could have been anticipated before, say, The Ramones, or any of the other punk and metal icons of the band members' more tender years. To derive the Wyatts' blend, they've simply excised the generalized anger and alienation: The Wyatts aim for a good time. Even their love-'em-and-lose-'em songs are made for booty shakin' while tossing back some cold ones.

As for the future of the family Wyatt, Roscoe says, "We gotta make more records, so we played a bunch of money-type gigs, everything we could get our hands on. We either play 300 45-minute sets, or we could play 20 four-hour shows, get paid really good and--like we just did in Williams--have a great frickin' time."

Sometimes you just have to be a bar band to become the band you know you can be. Sometimes you even let a writer sit in. In fact, that's exactly how they won me over to the Wyatt name thing: They put a shaker in my hand and asked me to play along with an acoustic version of their song "The Pick Up."

It's about a hitchhiking heartbreaker, name of Linda. - Tucson Weekly

By ANNIE HOLUB

THE WYATTS
The Continuing Saga of the Wyatts, Volume 1 (Self-Released)

The Wyatts are Tucson's resident country music legends--"legends," because they've created an entire myth surrounding their band. From their history to their songs, The Wyatts are classic storytellers, spinning tales with good ol' country spirit. Plus, their special blend of contemporary country-style vocals with traditional Americana melodies and instrumentations makes for plenty of catchy hooks.
The Continuing Saga of The Wyatts, Volume 1 (their second release) begins with the band on tour: Things are going well, but something just doesn't feel right. "I should've been a rodeo star," sings Roscoe Wyatt on "I Should Have Been," "it beats playing all these lonely, smoke-filled bars." "Won't Take Long" finds the band renewed, rockin' and "rolling down the highway, pushing until daylight's gone." But all those run-ins with beautiful girls on the road have taken their toll: On "Broke Your Heart," Roscoe croons, "I swear she was the only one," and on "I'm Not Your Savior," things get a bit more tense: "Don't you see now, you're not my only wife," Roscoe cries over a dark and daunting Johnny Cash-style hook.

On "The Pick-Up," a blue-eyed girl named Belinda stirs up a whole mess of trouble, and by the end of Volume 1, a slide guitar helps the band pour out their souls to a bartender ("Hey There, Bartender"). For The Wyatts, the drinkin' and wailin' is never done. - tucson Weekly

Let it never be said that the Tucson Area Music Award for Up-and-Coming Artist of the Year isn't an accurate harbinger. For proof, look no further than The Wyatts, who took that honor in 2005, and this year brought home their third consecutive TAMMIES honor for Band or Artist of the Year--no small feat.
So, the question must be asked: How in the hell did they do it?
Well, for one thing, they're awfully good at what they do--for the most part, traditional country-rock with pop hooks.
But an equally important reason is their attitude toward gigging. Unlike a lot of local bands with similarly serious intentions and goals, they'll perform just about anywhere, as long as there are people there to listen.
The Wyatts began in 2004, when singer/guitarist/songwriter Roscoe Wyatt (né Michael Drabousky--in the style of the Ramones, all of the band's members take on "Wyatts" names, though they're not actually related) and Country Mac Wyatt recorded a four-song demo and sent it out to possible interested parties. The feedback they received was overwhelmingly positive--so much so that the pair decided to form an actual band and see what happened. Jimbo Wyatt (Jim Howell) was enlisted to play drums; Johnny Guitar Wyatt played his namesake instrument, and Country Mac played bass. (Roscoe and Jimbo are the two remaining original members; Boudreaux Wyatt, né Damon Barnaby, now plays guitar, and though they've been through numerous bassists, Petruccio Michael Wyatt, né Michael P. Nordberg, currently holds that spot.)
Things took off quickly following the demo. They were sought by at least one record label; they recorded and released their self-titled debut album, and with it, says Jimbo, "We were charting, and we had 200 radio stations playing us."
But they were cursed by a case of bad timing: After the album was released, Country Mac had family matters to attend to, and the band was unable to capitalize on the album's success by hitting the road to promote it. "We blew it big-time by not going out and servicing those towns," recalls Roscoe. "We could go out now, but we would just be some other unknown band on a Tuesday night, driving through Albuquerque."
They've also had a difficult time finding a niche in the downtown and Fourth Avenue clubs. "What we've seen in town," says Roscoe, "is that when we first came out wearing cowboy hats and all that stuff, (the town) wasn't that receptive--and it's still not that receptive in the Fourth Avenue scene."
Adds Jimbo, "And the Maverick doesn't want to have us, because we won't do all cover songs."
Instead, The Wyatts have kept their schedule busy by adopting a play anywhere, anytime mentality that has taken them to both unlikely local venues and, in the summer, old country bars in smaller towns in Northern Arizona. In the process, yes, they've added cover songs to their sets.
Says Roscoe: "One thing that's happened is, to make pay and spread the gospel of The Wyatts, we've had to pick up 4- and 5-hour gigs now, which is something I never wanted to do in the beginning, being an originals-only band."
Adds Boudreaux: "But, really, out of a four-hour gig, we're doing (only) 30 percent covers. We have a lot of original music."
That attitude has allowed them to take gigs at local venues many other bands would turn down. After all, a lot of serious-minded bands would not play, as The Wyatts have, at Hooters.
"And one of our bass players wouldn't," says Roscoe, "and he quit because of it. ... A lot of bands have this integrity, and that's cool. But when you listen to the biggest bands, they say they've played every fucking hall, every room, every place they could, to get to where they were. We've never said, 'We refuse to play there.'
"You're either in it for the art, or you're in it for the music. And people who are in it for the art won't sell their fucking soul to play Hooters. But tonight, they're sitting there, eating fucking baked beans, 'cause that's all they can afford. Now, if they had played there, they could have had maybe $50, and they could have eaten a hamburger. And I understand the integrity part; that it's important. But the only way you're going to get good as a band is to not sit in your rehearsal space, not sit in my fucking room."
Or, as Boudreaux puts it, "I really don't give a shit if we're playing the back patio of Hooters or the Rialto Theatre. I want to play in front of people."
A few years ago, Jimbo got a random call from a guy who had found The Wyatts on MySpace. "He was looking for bands from around the state, or region, to play at his club," Jimbo recalls. "He had just opened this club that had been there for about 100 years, and they had a stage; they had sound, and they just needed bands to play there on weekends. It was in Williams, the World Famous Sultana saloon, right on Route 66."
The owner promised the band a gig, a meal, hotel rooms and a guaranteed amount of money, and they went for it. It would prove to be the blueprint for the band's summer itineraries. Since then, they've taken on an ever-increasing amount of gigs in Northern Arizona towns, playing to both locals and tourists who are in the area visiting the Grand Canyon.
"(When) we go up there and play full weekends in Prescott, full weekends in Williams, full weekends in Flagstaff and all the northern areas, tons of tourists are seeing us play, and buying our CDs and taking them back to Germany or New England or wherever they're from, and we're making good money," Jimbo says.
The Wyatts have also found that they like what Roscoe calls "the charm and the romance" of playing old, largely untouched historic bars, as opposed to "big, new, shiny clubs." Plus, contrary to what one might assume, The Wyatts say small-town audiences couldn't be more receptive.
"That's the cool thing about a lot of the country audiences," explains Boudreaux. "You can go out and do a pretty rockin', Social Distortion version of 'Cry, Cry, Cry,' and they dig it! They're into it. Some other genre-oriented clubs, if you went in and went too far outside your genre, you'd be shut down, or immediately hear about it. It seems like the audiences, at least in the places that we're playing, are way more open."
Says Roscoe: "The country audiences--especially the younger guys, our age and younger--are more sophisticated, more open-minded, believe it or not, than the urban kids. They listen to everything. Whereas most kids who listen to indie say, 'I listen to everything but country,' these kids who are 22 say, 'Well, I listen to country, sure, but I also listen to R&B and Death Cab for Cutie, or whatever.'"
The Wyatts haven't released a new EP or album since last year's seven-song The Continuing Saga of The Wyatts, Volume One, but now that the summer is quickly drawing to a close, they plan to return to Loveland Studio to record one, with their sights set on an early 2009 release. Once they do, they may embark on a short tour to promote it.
In the meantime, you can catch the TAMMIES Band of the Year headlining a show at The Hut, on Saturday, Sept. 13, their next scheduled local gig.
Unless, of course, you feel like taking a road trip up north.
--Stephen Seigel

http://tammies.com/profiles/blogs/1973216:BlogPost:9283 - Tucson Weekly, 2008