It's been nearly two decades since Lambchop released its first album, at the time pronouncing itself "Nashville's most f***ed-up country band." Provocative it may have been, but the description made sense: at the heart of all that ruckus was a band at once defying and embracing the musical legacy of its hometown.
It's been nearly two decades since Lambchop released its first album, at the time pronouncing itself "Nashville's most f***ed-up country band." Provocative it may have been, but the description made sense: at the heart of all that ruckus was a band at once defying and embracing the musical legacy of its hometown.
It's been nearly two decades since Lambchop released its first album, at the time pronouncing itself "Nashville's most f***ed-up country band." Provocative it may have been, but the description made sense: at the heart of all that ruckus was a band at once defying and embracing the musical legacy of its hometown.
