Claire will-not-William tell-not-Tell you right-not-left up-not-down front-not-back that Pat Green poses like a stranded Rodin man a pondery quandary. Furious purists prone to exalt the gestalt of alt find fault by default; Pat-hats rooty-toot-shoot back, frat-a-tat-tat.
The fruition of Claire’s suspicion is that irk of the first ilk is due like a library book in part and parcel to Green making green; conversely not Adidasly, Claire like a masochistic middle manager in a milkmaid suit submits that the Pat proponent component is a cavalry-not-Calvary that skedaddles astraddle beer ponies, defending party over arty.
Claire takes her alt with a pinch of salt, and Three Days does not like dog food incur her full-frontal disgruntle. “Crazy” is easy-breezy, “Wrong Side Of Town” is like a tuckered cherub sweetly weary, and “Carry On” is a groovy little scamper. Considering like Dorothy’s missing homework this album in toto, however, Claire pestily suggests it be retitled River Wide, Ankle Deep.
Singing about hard drink, hard roads and hard living is one thing. Conveying them is another. Claire, who-de-doo is in party favor of straps in general, and boot straps in particular, has done and redone her search and research and is cognoscenti a-plenty that Pat Green has paid his dues with his shoes. Like a champion confectioner, she wishes him sweet success, but feeling like a grouse-louse and admitting like a whacked-out bird dog that she might have missed the point, Claire has to nay-say: She gets no pitter over Pat.