From Maps on-line:
Why Piney Gir is much like a spinach and cheese wrap
As a child, I always hated spinach - to be honest, I'm sure most kids would say the same. Despite the best efforts of Popeye the Sailorman to convince us of it's Herculean strength giving properties, there was absolutely nothing that you could have done to force the revolting green stuff down my throat, not even for a million transformer toys, or the last sticker I needed to complete my 1990 World Cup Pannini sticker album.
So deeply entrenched was my hatred of this leafy vegetable, that it wasn't until a few weeks ago that I finally gave it a second chance, much against my better judgement, at a dinner party thrown by one of our school governors. When the first course appeared as a spinach & cheese wrap, two conflicting viewpoints clashed furiously in my subconscious - the bratty 7 year old inside me, sulking and screaming in outrage at being served this noxious concoction took on the mature, professional adult that I occasionally pretend to be these days, who considers keeping someone who has ultimate power over my employment status happy worth taking a few mouthfuls of hors d'oeuvre for.
Eventually, adult-me won the battle, sent kid-me to it's room in a huff and bit the bullet (or rather the crispy pancake wrap). Much to my surprise, I didn't instantly fall to the floor gagging at the poisonous substance lodged in my throat, but found myself rather enjoying it.
I've had a similarly longstanding aversion to country music. I blame my Dad, who would subject the household to crackly recordings of yodelling yokels turned up loud enough that he could hear it over the noise of the lawnmower in the garden (he's also responsible for an early dislike of blues, hiking and moustaches).
Until last year, it was a dislike that had held firm (country music that is, not moustaches - though I've still never even contemplated growing one myself), until that fateful spinach and cheese wrap moment arrived at Truck Festival 2005 on the main stage, watching the delectable Piney Gir. The charm,
humour and massive frocks on show blew away my deep seated anti-country prejudices and within minutes I was grinning like a fool, dancing along to accordion-led hoe downs.
Fast forward a year, and following another heart-stopping performance featuring a troupe of line-dancers at this year's Truck, Piney releases her first single under her Country Roadshow guise on the fledgling Sounds Experience label.
Live, a large part of the appeal is Piney herself and her effervescent charm and contagious enthusiasm, and short of bussing her in to the front rooms of each of the 500 people that buy this limited release, it's never going to be quite the same experience on vinyl (even if it is hand numbered). Nevertheless, 'Great Divide' proves that there's substance behind the petticoats and vintage dresses. A rusty fiddle introduction leads into Piney's lilting vocal, shuffly drums and a toe-tapping little ditty about hitting the road and heading on down the open highway, as country singers seem to do rather more often than the rest of us. Double A side 'Trouble' is a more uptempo number, and feature both pedal steel guitar and a train whistle, so is of course undeniably ace.
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