The Plowboys Self-Titled Review
The Plowboys
Self-Titled
Self-Released
2024
I don’t often get to wave the flag for Country, Rockabilly, and Americana around here. Most of those bands and labels aren’t exactly lining up for coverage from a site known for Metal. Fair enough. But here’s the twist: these days, I’m a Rockabilly drummer. That’s it. That’s my preferred playing lane. I’ve hung up the Metal boots (they’re heavy, and I’m not 25 anymore) and gone back to playing the music that first lit the fuse for me. It keeps me honest. I want to enjoy playing music. Outside of that, I’m Metal through and through.
Every once in a while, though, I stumble across a band that makes me reach out and say, “Hey… you feel like letting the Metal guy talk about some twang?” Sometimes I even get a response that doesn’t include “unsubscribe.” That brings us to today.
The Plowboys out of Ontario are knee-deep in that classic Bakersfield sound popularized by my hero Buck Owens. Rhinestone suits? Check. Tongue-in-cheek lyrics? Absolutely. Gritty, tight musicianship? You bet. They carry the same torch that Owens and his Buckaroos did - music that feels tailor-made for the stage at the Grand Ole Opry.
For now, they’re grinding it out the old-fashioned way: playing wherever they can and winning over fans one show at a time. And honestly, that’s how this kind of music is supposed to grow. Give them a couple of fans, a hardwood floor, maybe a dog asleep near the stage, and they’re going to deliver.
Their 2024 self-titled debut was recorded in vocalist Scott Hagerty’s barn, specifically in the room where they store preserves. Yes, preserves. And no, you’d never know it. This thing sounds like it came out of a high-dollar studio in Nashville or California. The tones are crisp, the mix is warm, and the performances are locked in. I hear Buck’s influence all over it, blended with the driving punch of the Kentucky Headhunters and a touch of the polish and swagger of The Mavericks. As someone who’s recorded demos in garages and barns that sounded like garages and barns, I can tell you, this is no small feat.
The Bakersfield DNA runs deep here. The twangy, sharp-edged guitar work nods heavily to Don Rich, Buck’s right-hand man and one of the true architects of that sound. Rich was every bit as crucial as Owens himself, and you can feel that reverence in these riffs.
And then there’s the steel guitar. Sweet mercy. Played by Bruce Hoffman, who once worked with the legendary Mel Tillis, it’s all over this record in the best possible way. If there’s space for steel, Hoffman fills it. If there isn’t space, he politely creates some. Modern Country may have misplaced the steel guitar somewhere between drum machines and snap tracks, but The Plowboys found it, dusted it off, and put it right where it belongs.
At a tight 34 minutes, the album flies by. My wife and I put it on during a small road trip, and while this isn’t technically “her thing,” she’s been married to a Rockabilly/Country drummer for three decades. She’s been force-fed enough Buck Owens to qualify for honorary Buckaroo status. Within minutes, we were both humming along. We’ve lived this soundtrack. We’ve stood in Honky Tonks and beer joints where this kind of music was the norm and it was revered. I’ve played in some of those beautiful spots too – at this point in my life, I feel like I was born in a Honky Tonk.
There isn’t a weak track in the bunch, but standouts for me include “Burger Date,” “Our Love Is A Hurtin’ Kind,” “Out Of Luck Out Of My Mind,” and “She Did Me No Wrong Out Behind The Barn.” The titles alone should tell you what you’re getting: clever wordplay, playful turns of phrase, and humor that enhances the songs rather than turning them into novelty acts.
Vocally, Hagerty delivers with a rugged smoothness that calls to mind a young Roger Miller, with flashes of Junior Brown attitude sneaking in. It’s confident, unforced, and authentic, which is more than can be said for a large chunk of what passes for mainstream Country radio these days.
And let’s just say it plainly: this album is a reminder of how far-removed commercial Country has drifted from its roots. Somewhere along the line, Rhinestones and Telecasters got traded in for programmed beats and arena-pop choruses. If you need proof that real Country music is still alive and well, The Plowboys are it.
Their music is available on YouTube and Spotify, and the album is out there waiting for you. Do yourself a favor, don’t just stream it. Support it and buy the CD.
Hands down, this is one of the best albums I’ve heard this year in any genre. If you dig Buck Owens, Marty Stuart, The Mavericks, the Kentucky Headhunters, or Dwight Yoakam, this should absolutely hit home.