Holly Golightly & the Brokeoffs

Dirt Don’t Hurt (Transdreamer)

By Amy Kaufman
Published: November 24th, 2008 | 9:00am

You may have heard her lush vocals peppered throughout a White Stripes song or on the soundtrack to Broken Flowers. Maybe you recognize her name partnered with all-girl garage rock band Thee Headcoatees, or from one of several solo albums. But now London-based chanteuse Holly Golightly re-partners with the Brokeoffs (a.k.a. right-hand man, Lawyer Dave) to deliver the ultimate alt-country croon: Dirt Don’t Hurt. Recorded on the northern coast of Spain, the album was finished in five days at the vintage studio Circo Pirotti and, as a result, radiates with the lush warmth of your favorite ‘50s albums.

With Dirt Don’t Hurt, the twang is in the banjo, the pacing evenly upbeat and tentative. Affectionate songs are sung for old hens and 45s, and 2 or 3–step baselines carry the soulful Appalachian folk rhythm like steady locomotion — with help from carefully placed percussion and a ton of cowbell. The bantering acoustic guitar and banjo create a traditional frame, and electric guitars are spattered throughout, giving a modern rockabilly twist to honky-tonk. Golightly’s voice hits each note with the pure openness of a bell, and Lawyer Dave’s musky harmonies are throaty and a bit guttural — but subtly so — providing the perfect counterpart.

The lyrics are witty and playful, but something about the taut melodic structure and constant repetition, which leaves little to no room for vocal improvisation, is framed much like a nursery rhyme or old spiritual — presenting relaxed Southern hospitality with lyrics like, “My old hen was a good old hen / She laid eggs for the railroad men / Sometimes one, sometimes two / She lays eggs for the whole damn crew” (“Cluck Old Hen”).

Though the melodies are plaintive, the lyrics are far from Mother Goose. “My 45” begins with Golightly asking a question as Lawyer Dave quickly interrupts with “Do the fucking song”; however, not all of the tracks are quite as brutal: Subjects range from “Gettin’ High For Jesus” to pulling out your trusty gun to defend your life. Even the borderline sappy songs like “I Wanna Hug Ya, Kiss Ya, Squeeze Ya” are catchy — which is risky when the livelihood of an artist can be diminished with an overly emotive country ditty. But overall, Dirt Don’t Hurt is an uncontrollable 14-track toe-tapper, no matter how hard you fight the urge.

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