What you cannot see in this photo, just past the Lexie Mountain Boys' feet, was a thick and dated cell phone that had been used to call fifth band member Amy Harmon, in Austin, Texas for an unknown reason, just before they before they began to sing. Except they didn't sing much, either. They whooped and laughed and cawed, finding something like a sister to harmony, though never that pure plain itself. They stomped, too, and took a moment to eat a strawberry and roll percussive shells against their knees. Do you ever see something and think that's simultaneously perfect but deeply incorrect? Lexie Mountain Boys don't belong in a cold house with a pot leaf painted by the staircase, but they don't belong only in a gallery, either. Someone introduce these women to Rita Ackermann, maybe she can help. Is it wrong they remind us of the Harlem Globetrotters? Luxurious skill abandoned for the fuck of it.
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