Shannon Wells, The Daily Athenaeum, October, 1993.

"Basement demolition."
 
 

Jon the Bastard, "Morgantown Noize," Graffiti, February, 1994.

"Who sez Punk is dead? MTV maybe, but not Morgantown....I really like Granny's 12 Gauge. The music is in the same vein as Social Distortion, but without the snarling raccoon vocals. I caught the end of a recent show and had a rollicking good time. These guys play solid twin guitar rock with a definite down home gene. Apparently equal fans of Johnny Cash and Led Zeppelin, I could see Granny's 12 Gauge alongside Paw, 63 Eyes, or Neil Young up on the stage. These guys, a pile of 10 Horse Ale, and you couldn't as for much more out of an evening without unlacing your boots...except a ride home."
 
 

A member of Glory Journal, while being interviewed on WCLG'FM's "Live at the Morg" Feburary, 1994.

"Granny's 12 Gauge is like a cross between Uncle Tupelo and Kiss, two of my favorite bands."
 
 

Jim Maher, City Paper--Baltimore's Free Weekly, December, 1994.

"Explosive punk."
 
 

Julie Barnes, "Weekend Ramblings," Columbus, Ohio's Downtown and Underground, May, 1996.

"I got there just as the second band took the stage...Granny's 12 Gauge succeeds with something that few bands even attempt to create...outlaw country-blues cross-pollonized with hard, even punkish rock that makes me--for one--want to move to whatever Petticoat Junction they've rode in from and slam-twirl the nights away. Plus, they ravaged me before they knew I was a reporter."
 
 

Bob Prescott, The Daily Athenaeum, August, 1997.

"Appalachian punk at its very best. Taking hillbilly hollering and mixing it with gritty, rhythmic punky pulses, the pump action shootings of this fun-loving foursome make sure that the crowd has an absolute blast. Squirrel stew eaters and Huckleberry Finn hat wearers are especially welcome."
 
 

Nicole Rafiani, "Another Night at the Nyabinghi," The Daily Athenaeum, September, 1997.

"After giving a brief introduction for Granny's 12 Gauge, Capsule quickly packed up their instruments and vanished from the stage while Granny set up. Granny's mic check and tuning session wasn't as painful as Capsule's had been. I knew when the lead singer sang Elvis Presley's "That's All Right Momma" that I was going to like this band.

After they were thoroughly tuned, one of the band members tried to explain why the CD release party scheduled for that evening wasn't possible due to the CDs being "held hostage in Canada." During his explanation, a wild and crazy guy screamed at the band, "Are you guys going to play rock 'n roll or what?" The bands's reply was 'Easy there, we don't want to start any trouble,' and then they began to literally shake the walls of the Nyabinghi. The drums were so loud that my eyes flinched every time the drum stick pounded against the drum. The ridiculous loudness that the band created coud be tolerated and enjoyed at any amphitheater near you, but in an enclosed bar no bigger than the Mountainlair Rhododendron Room, it is not enjoyable. Granny's music would have been much better had they turned it down a decibel or two. [Note: I've had numerous comments and questions concerning the sheer volume the band creates. This is the evidently the result of the twin 250 horsepower Massey-Fergussen deisel-fired generator units the band uses to power the stage monitors. They must be kept running at all times and sometimes their roar spills into the mix. At least that's what Frank the Roadie told me, but he's so deaf I don't know if he heard the question.--Rhonda F.]

Other than the deafening loudness, the band played extremely well together and, like my granpa's spaghetti sauce, it had a little of everything in it. Their music could have been classified as blues, or even country, but it had too much rock 'n' roll mixed into it. One song did that Charlie Daniels Band thing and let the music slow down so that the lead singter/guitarist could tell a little story about West Virginia while the drums and bass kept a steady slow beat.

'They're not alternative, they're not punk, they're not country--They're cowpunk,' was Pennsylvania fan Emily Meadville's opinion of the band's music. What exactly is cowpunk you may wonder? I don't know, but it sure sounds interesting.

Granny closed their set with much energy, and of course much volume, while the audience danced around and shook their bodies to the music. Their style of music was entertaining because the lyrics to their songs were funny and all their music was upbeat, which made Granny's different from the other bands that scream and whine about everything that's wrong with the world. [I don't think she heard a thing they sang. They usually make me cry.--Rhonda] After the show was over, I decided I was glad I checked out these two bands, because I got the best of both worlds: I had my sexy man there with me and I didn't lose my hearing."
 
 

Mark Stacy, "Granny’s 12 Gauge Hits Mark " The Dominion Post, December, 1997.

"I once told a friend that if I ever had a band, I wanted it to sound like an atom-smashing collision of Social Distortion, Bad Religion and Triple Shot.

We looked at each other, and the light of realization went on in our heads at roughly the same instant.

We nodded. Yeah, boy.

Granny’s 12 Gauge.

Throw in the psychobilly insanity of the Rev. Horton Heat and the madness of the Cramps, and that about spikes it.

This has been one of Morgantown’s most incendiary live acts for a year or two. And now, at long last, you can take the boys back to the trailer park with you.

Manic and frantic, sweatin’ swamps, teetering on the edge of control, “UFOrd,” G12G’s debut CD, is a runaway locomotive of an album. Nothing fancy here. G12G inhabits a land of muscle cars and bloozy gin joints, of hoodoos and white t-shirts with cigs in the sleeve.

Above all, trains.

I’m a sucker for train rock songs, and G12G is, too. They let you know where this freight is headed right from the start: The CD opens with a steam-train whistle that mutates into a near-human shriek, not long after come “Hoodoo Engine” and “Train Don’t Roll Here."

That’s just for starters. For enders, there’s a blood-curdlingly mournful train whistle symphony.

In-betweeners are stoke-the-coals-and-fire-the-boilers tunes like “13 Shots of Pain,” “Promised Land” and the immortal “Brush Hog.”

The players are Rod X (drums, vocals), Don Swampus and Cap (both guitar and vocals) and Schepp (on bass and vocals).

The production, by Mark Poole and Don Gochenour, thankfully puts the guitars up front, blazing away where they belong.

Recommended."
 
 

Dan LeRoy, "Local Reviews: Granny's 12 Gauge," Graffiti, February, 1998

"Although this Morgantown quartet's name suggests it's in league with the annoying bevy of wannabe white-trash punks, Granny's 12 Gauge actually has a lot more to offer. Numbers like the tightly-wound 'Promised Land' and '13 Shots of Pain' display both muscle and melodic sense. The band also shows, on the spookily twanging 'Creek,' that it can rock out without just lighting up the afterburners. The cowpunk numbers, like "Brush Hog" ('He had a John Deer tattoo/on the back of his red neck') are skillfull and moderate fun, but Granny's 12 Gauge is more impressive when it lays off the cornpone."
 
 

Bob Prescott, "Reviews," The Daily Athenaeum, January, 1998.

"There's a huge train a-rollin down the hill. It's picking up speed and there's absolutely no way it's gonna stop. It's fast, it's big, it's loud, it's lewd and it's got a steaming belly full of fire. The train's got a name emblazoned on its side: it reads 'Granny's 12 Gauge.' It's a name that says that if ya get in its way, it's gonna squish ya up and spit ya out quicker than a toothless redneck hawking up a wad of Redman Plug.

How best can you describe Granny's? Try imagining a parachuteless but Stetson-clad Slim Pickens whore-slapping [The band does not condone this.--Rhonda], 'yeeehawwing'  and rodeo-riding an ICBM hurtling down on Jesco White's house. Now imagine a hillbilly explosion that's so noisy and so massive, it's gonna knock a donut-spinning Uncle Cletus straight off the 'coon-skinned seat of his favorite ATV. Imagine all this--and much more besides--and you're about halfway home to working out why this big-gunned foursome delivers a sound and style that's the only thing keeping the grits-chewin', Jack-garglin', NRA card-carryin', pickup-truck drivin' woodhick hordes from performing unspeakable activities with their favorite farm animal.

This album is cram-packed with raw and dynamic energy from start to finish. That's 10 tracks full of monster tractor-pulling adrenaline. It's Appalachian punk at its absolute finest. It's as if the ghost of Elvis (that's the fat, rhinestone-wearing Elvis) has finally found a safe have to rest his weary bones. And that trailer home lies right in the hear of Hee-Haw Holler, a.k.a., Morgantown, U.S.A.

Totally toe-tappin and utterly compulsive stuff. "
 
 

Ed Freedom, Street Interview, Feburary 19, 1998.

"Make no mistake, Granny's is loud and sometimes, yeah, it's out of control, but Jeeezus it rocks...there is nothing else like it anywhere except in that special place up in your head."
 
 

John McQuillen, The Monongahela Submarine Music 'Zine, June, 1998.

"...and last but not least, you can head to Morgantown's Sunnyside on the 17th for your summertime ear candy. In the last couple years Granny's 12 Gauge has shared the bill with well-known underground bands like Nashville Pussy, The New Bomb Turks, Angry Johnny and the Killbillies, Appalachian Death Ride, Big Back Forty, The Lazy Cowgirls, Railroad Jerk, The Cigar Store Indians, Mojo Nixon (one of my all-time favorite shows by the way)...yet they usually remain in Morgantown, playing music by, for, and about the people of West Virginia--given to you at the end of a gun barrel. Please kiss my Appalachian ass if I don't see you there."
 
 

Question and Answer Session With Cap at Falstaff's, August 4, 1998,

with Possibly Tripping Pseudo-Psychic, [Witnessed and Noted By Rhonda]

PT,P-P: (Sitting down at the bar, recognizing Cap who was enjoying a Jeam Beam on the rocks, and my company, thank you.--Rhonda) "Ohhhh man, I was at the Corner Pocket Saloon. I saw your show. You're name's Don right?"

Cap: "No, my name's Mike. Don is my partner in crime."

PT,P-P: "O.K., right..., I knew that. It was like...It was like...You were in a room, with all those people...but you weren't really there...you were somewhere else...by yourself. You didn't even see those people. You have a power crystal embeded in the base of your spine."

Cap: "Welcome to West Virginia."
 
 

Keith Woofter, "123 Pleasant St. Has Returned--Musings on the actions of Bobby Lane and Granny's 12 Gauge," The Daily Athenaeum, October, 1998. [Slightly edited.--Rhonda.]

"Walking into the bar I was greeted by an unsuspected friend and we reminisced about how 123 Pleasant Street used to be back when I had to crawl over the cigatte butts and goosestep across unleveled floorboards...

Bobby Lane was first at bat. Top of the first, a look of angst in his eyes behind the sunglassess... Fluid movement from one song into the next, a hard drinking, cazy-time-loving-blood-thirsty American with a green guitar and a slight headache for tomorrow. Beautifully un-pc....Used to live above the old Nyabinghi as I understand, though I admit, I don't know how he could have managed with the animals downstairs, the smell of stale piss and beer. Loving qualitites etched in anyone's memory who ever frequented the place in the past.

But I fell in love with the bar again, LJ, the owner of the new 123 Pleasant Street, told me that the upper bar will be turned into a cafe/deli in the spring and that every brick wall in the establishment will be open for the display of work done by local artists.

I missed the neon chalkboard schedule; however, the other remodeling is definitely a step up from the way things used to be. No more drunken death steps, no visible low-hanging ductwork, and the Harriet Tubman portrait is back from the Underground Railroad days. The downstairs bar is fabulous, The ceilings are something everyone will have to go down and check out. I can't describe them. Bottles slamming to the beat, the crowd was in obvious anticipation of what is to become 123 Pleasant Street.

I missed the beginning of the next band...Granny's 12 Gauge was on deck. Lugen Farms Dairy, an anachronistic folk-style if you will, scared the Hell out of me, as I'm not from round these parts... These ladies of Lugen Farms Dairy kept the crowd, and that means a lot...The audience engulfed with the three kindred spirits up on stage with a mighty applause....

Granny's 12 Gauge up. Two down, bottom of the ninth with bases loaded. I had never seen these Marlboro men in action before, I was expecting the rockabilly of the The Reverend Horton Heat by the looks of the attire. "Rock you ass off!" someone yelled from the crowd. "Does anyone have any Cheese Wiz?" Cheese appeared. Ears began to thump from the bass drum...I felt the electric love from the slide home.

From this day forward, I'm a loyal fan of Granny's 12 Gauge. These boys don't need Nashville, what they need is Lithium, and 123 Pleasant Street remains the cavernous acoustical realm of kick-ass bands. Tight, although later Cap told me he thought they were a bit off, I felt they were right-on and loud enough to wake the dead. I was amazed at the bourbon, the liquid madness in musical form keeping the beat behind the musicians. We hung around well after the last set to find out when the next gig will be. Sorry to say, but you're guess is as good as mine as to when Granny's 12 Gauge will take to the stage next."
 

Michael Litpton, et. al., "The Best of West Virginia" Graffiti, February, 2000

" While most new bands concern themsilves with feel-good songs and partying, Granny's 12 Gauge is, perhaps, the state's most radical and politically driven rock band. Songs like "Sid Hatfield," "Highwall Blues," and "Buffalo Creek" are all critical of coal mining. Others, like "Flatwoods Monster" and "Mystery Hole,"  celebrate the state's individuality. The group is a hard rockng' punk 'n' boogie band whose mission makes up for any technical deficiencies."
 

Jay Marinelli, in the forums of The Scene, March, 2000

"To me, Punk isn't necesarily JUST a musical genre, but a way of delivering one's music, or simply DOING THINGS FOR YOUSELF and BY YOURSELF, without regard for industry standards. In that respect WOODY GUTHRIE, THE CLASH and GRANNY'S 12 GAUGE all were cut from the same cloth."
 

Todd Burge, on "CLG Homegrown," March, 2000

"Granny's 12 Gauge makes 63 Eyes look like The Carpenters." [G12G claims this is untrue, and that Todd may have been under the influence of alchohol when he said this.--Rhonda.]
 

Sarah Barnes, "West Virginia Celebration 2000 - Musicians in the Mountain State", April, 2000

"Hard rock from the hollows? Appalachian punk? Label-defying Granny's 12 Gauge is a force to be reckoned with. Not one to ignore their roots, G12G often writes original material specifically focusing on the Mountain State. Like a locomotive barreling down the tracks, G12G hurls 'high-decibel revenge for the underdog state' with a brilliantly constructed mix of styles and smart lyrics ."
 
 

Alpo, Local Reviews, "Granny's 12 Gauge, Tales of High-Decibel Desolation"

The latest from Morgantown’s G12G is a balls-out collection of rockers that puts them in the running as one of the state’s most potent outfits. "My Mind Is Somewhere Else" has the sound of ‘60s garage rockers like the Seeds, while "Dear Devil" conjure the fury of Johnny Kidd’s legendary Pirates. There’s not a lot of variety –- the appy-rocker "Self-Destruction Under Construction" offers a change-up -- but when you do something right, what the hell. The whole disc has the kind of self-assured swagger that you can’t manufacture, and, if I were Uncle Cecil, the title track, a blues ‘n’ boogie tirade on Mountaintop Removal, would make me more than a little nervous.
 

Josh Saul, "Granny's 12 Gauge--Tales of High-Decibel Desolation"
(Roving Reporter), June, 2000

"You're from West Virginia and  haven't heard Granny's 12 Gauge? Shame on you. As a place, West Virginia emanates  a legacy, a history and a soul that no other mere "state" could- and West Virginia's people, of course, share in this, for better or worse. Most folks resent their Appalachian roots--while some hate it enough to move off to the promised land of North Carolina. But there are a few of us who embrace what is ours, right down to the moonshiners, the coal miners, the county fairs, snake handlers, tent revivals and trailer brides that remain on the business end of far to many jokes. Simply put, some of us know where we're from, and we by God don't want to be from Charlotte. In the vein of rock & roll bands that try to tap this legacy (and there are quite a few- the soil around West Virginia's musical roots is its most fertile), Granny's 12 Gauge casts a Blair Mountain sized shadow on the state's music landscape. By mixing the traditional Appalachian ingredients of bluegrass, country, blues and gospel with hard rock and punk, Granny's 12 Gauge creates some of the loudest, most uniquely West Virginian music I've ever heard; a white-trash Southern West Virginia mess that is at once pure as an Ernest Angley sermon, but dangerous enough to frighten off the livestock. Such is the case with their newest release, "Tales of High-Decibel Desolation," a 10-track rock opry that chronicles everything from stale relationships to coal miner lamentations to the rise and fall of the band.

The soul of Granny's 12 Gauge lies not so much in their Flatt & Scruggs meets Guns n' Roses sound, but in their approach. While most bands from this region make feel-good party music for a credit-card-hippie fan base, Granny opts for an informed, infuriated, overtly political message aimed specifically at West Virginia's native sons and daughters. Granny's 12 Gauge exudes nary a trace of the familiar "It's-all-good-pass-the-bong" vibe, but instead emanates a "life is hard, so pour me another shot of Beam" feel, as with the track "Self Destruction Under Construction": "I Go to work when the sun goes down/ I know every bar keep in this town/ they call my name when I hit the door/ they know just what I've come there for…self destruction under construction/ I'm paving across the past so the memories won't last…"

The tales of desolation persist throughout  the album, in songs such as "Dear Devil" and "Too Many Dues" and "You Will Fade Away." They take on a particular poignancy in "Dried-Up Dreams," first because of the song's relation to place:  "This town is made of the strangest things/ washed-out lives and dried-up dreams [Granny knows that in a land locked state, things get washed OUT not washed up] this town has got some deep dark cracks/Mystery Holes and tourist traps" (if you've been to the Mystery Hole, you'll understand) and second,  because of its chronicle of the learned hopelessness that is often experienced by citizens of the Underdog State: "I got a suitcase full of rage and a bottle of despair/Granny's 12 Gauge and a thousand yard stare/strange things, these dried up dreams…they'll haunt you in the night…" It's not Steinbeck, but to my knowledge Steinbeck didn't own a Les Paul.

By far, Granny's 12 Gauge are at their best on "Mountaintop Removal," the album's most overtly political track. The song takes its name from the coal industry's most infamous method of mining in West Virginia, a diabolically arrogant process where entire mountaintops are loped off, cut up and ground to dust as the coal underneath is extracted. The song is carried by Mike Caplinger's lyrics, an indictment of the coal industry's parasitic relationship with the state that is scathing enough to cause the complete works of Denise Giardinia read like a sorority girl rant: "He's paid big to get the governor's approval/ Now he's doin' mountaintop removal…He's got 10 dumpers and a dragline rig/ twenty scabs and their itchin' to dig/ he's made a million it's a heart he lacks/ he goes around breaking mountain's backs…he's gonna tear that mountain down…"

This is not a collection of funny songs, or a parody of West Virginian culture. Instead, Granny's 12 Gauge has given us a nearly perfect group of songs that brilliantly reflect the good and bad sides of living in the Mountain State. Acquire this CD any way you can.  Play it for your out-of-state friends.
It will make you proud to be a West Virginian."