Ike Reilly strikes you as a guy that you don’t want to mess with, or you may wake up on the floor seeing stars encircle your head. He has the countenance of a tough, raw-boned, but wiry looking cowboy with a cool, steely gaze, but a ready laugh. In fact, Reilly is indeed cool, cooler than the other side of the pillow, cooler than ranch dressing right out of the fridge, and knowing that he was once a gravedigger, somehow doesn’t surprise. His music is highly atmospheric, reeking of booze, stale cigarettes and weed, and his lyrics reflect his skill as a masterful storyteller, a keen observer of life and its many injustices. His slambunctious band, the Ike Reilly Assassination, kicks serious ass like the ultimate bar band on steroids.

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