Hard Rock Cafe Nashville
THE COLD STARES


The Cold Stares
Sounds like: Pixies meet Muddy Waters meets Black Sabbath meets Son House meets P.J. Harvey. Looks like: the Afgan Whigs meets Lightning Hopkins playing blues in Clarksdale with Gordie Johnson. Feels like: chocolate in agent provocateur panties on Molly Simms dancing in a juke in Mississippi: Hits like: Apollo Creed. Smells like: sex, Knob Creek, Sunday morning service, roast and Issey Miyake. Hurts like: Otis Redding and long distance love. Nothing sampled, nothing fake. No bass player needed.

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