The Only Sons (formerly Ribbonpigeon, a vastly superior moniker in this writer’s humble opinion) has made a damn fine record. This avian pedigreed non-brotherhood tries hard to keep it out of the ditch, and they pull it off so well that you’d be glad to give them your keys. And after a late night, and you just met the guys, and they blew into your town to play a house show, and it was your house, and you’re not entirely sure where you ended up, well . . .

I not only recommend the record, but it’d be worth a few minutes of your time to read their blog on theonlysons.net. Here are a couple of gems:

We threw down in a barn last night just outside Indianapolis and drank many beers and ate a lot of burgers?May 24.

We walked around Brooklyn for the better part of three hours lookin’ for a bar . . . I swear I think we are the only people in America that can’t find a place to drink in that part of town at three in the afternoon?May 27.

It’s probably a gross overstatement or at best an outburst of vicarious glee, but when your blog reads like honky-tonk haiku, well . . .

Steel Hearts really is a nice record. On a basic level, it’s one of the most solid recordings I’ve heard in a while. I never thought I’d try to capture anything with a one-word descriptor, but somehow “Rollicking” seems to nail it.

They sling guitars like swinging a chain gang sickle (takin’ it off on a solo here boss) and saw a fiddle with a mouth full of whatever it was that Good Lookin’ had cookin’. The songwriting is memorable, and with lines like “Loneliness is on my side, and that’s alright” and “Heard the hammering rain drive the gravel road, and who were we kidding, leaving like we had somewhere to go,” I’m almost ready to move back home too.