Native son Harvey Pekar, he of American Splendor, is dead. Drew Carey's in Burbank, shilling for CBS. Northeast Ohio native LeBron James took "his talents" to South Beach. (Hey, Screamin' Jay Hawkins and Albert Ayler left, too.) And just about every member of the county government has been indicted for some sort of malfeasance besides.
But like a Phoenix rising from the ashes of a burning city (or even its big river), Cleveland's own New Lou Reeds present their magnum opus Hit Songs. Again casting their sardonic and cynical eye toward the myth of the working class hero and the supposed beauty and glamour of the entertainment industry, the Reeds have created their own distorted Americana, the soundtrack for life's hideous and hilarious underbelly.
"a previously unknown link between Captain Beefheart, Television,and Neil Young. The Reeds will make you laugh, cry, get drunk and land in jail"
"He's a star, brothers'n'sisters, of that I have no doubt. We neeeed Stephe DK."
-Julian Cope, Head Heritage
"...It's music to love and lose a good woman to, music to drive 18-wheelers to, music to sit on the porch flicking ash on the driveway to, music to drive a stake through the heart of the American dream; and that's what makes it so damn addictive." -Boomkat UK
"...poor-man's Chris Cornell"
-Skyscraper Magazine
"...The New Lou Reeds play electrified southern rock 'n' roll like the last great bar band you saw in Dallas."
-Zero Magazine
