The Kill Devil Hills - The Spanish Club

When I hear the phrase ‘country music’ I can’t help but imagine either American cowboys scowling through tales of the dustbowl deep south, old English men supping real ale and singing in impenetrable accents or the new breed of wiry alt-country stars who never have a good word for anyone or anything, however it seems that Australian Country artists fall into their own unique sub-genre.

The Kill Devil Hills have achieved a remarkable amount in the brief four years of their existence, speedily chalking up two albums, prestigious gig dates, a rapidly expanding fan base and industry recognition with 4 WAMi awards and Triple J approval.

As a six piece, filling the large stage at The Spanish club holds no challenge for The Kill Devil Hills, the world worn band members resplendent in denim, checked shirts and of course, ample beards. All that is except the drummer, who aside from possessing his own unique look and intense gravel voice, plays drums in the oddest fashion, standing, with the bass drum several feet away from him un yet somehow maintaining a solid beat. The remainder of the band work their way through a succession of traditional acoustic instruments such as banjo’s, mandolins, Ukeles and low strung guitars producing dark layers of brooding but hauntingly catchy melodies. The crowd are in the band’s hands, slowly gyrating to the music, lighters held aloft in the appropriate places, rousing choruses joined with aplomb and copious amounts of alcohol consumed in tribute.

Initially described to me as ‘Bush men with lots of facial hair and a few years in prison under their belts’ I’m unsure as to the accuracy and libellous nature of that statement but this group of mysterious Bush men do little to dismiss or contradict that image. ‘The Kill Devil Hills’ are a perfect summation of 200 hundred years of Australian culture and history right up to the present day. Music that conjures images of hot, sweaty days of toil, struggle and oppression in a dry and dusty land, culminating in hot sweaty nights of drinking, aggression and tension, tales of forlorn hearts, failed romance and vengeance, in short Rock & Roll at it’s purest.

Published in InPress