I've been grooving on the Nathaniel Rateliff and the Night Sweats all summer. I saw St Paul and the Broken Bones on Colbert the other night. Both my wife and I were slack-jawed. The kind of music you want to hear in a small club where the walls are sweating and the bodies writhing.
Somewhere up there, James Brown and Otis Redding are nodding in time, smiling.
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