unearthing subterranean media since 2009


In Augusta, GA. there is the Masters golf tournament. It’s predominately for fat, rich, sunburned, drunk people wearing white hats.

In Augusta GA. there is one of my favorite bands, Turf War. It’s predominately for fat, poor, pale, drunk people who may not even be wearing hats.

I like Turf War a whole lot more than I like the Masters golf tournament. So do most other people who are neither rich nor sunburned. In fact, there is an entire collective of artits, musicians, hippies, vagrants, alcoholics, club owners, bucksome young women, seedy old wenches, hillbillies, and various other fringe members of that club-swinging town who support Turf War with the frenzied, psychotic determination of the parents of an up and coming child actor. (Seriously, just check out their top friends on Myspace.)

The main reason for the band’s success is front-man, John Robinson. He is particularly honest and not in an imposing way that makes you feel embarrassed or naked. It’s more of an “I’ve always known that. You just said it way better than I ever could have…” kind of way.

When Robinson tells a story, he’s not only telling you the plot. He’s making you a character. This sense of feeling like you’re a part of Robinson’s music is a perfect illustration of the philosophies behind the community out of which his music was born. Whether you’re revered, hated, laughed at, lusted after, beat up, smacked down, or martyred, in Augusta, you’re a part of a pack of wild animals, so you best get in good.


Posted by: Jamie

Category: Uncategorized

24 Feb, 2010

Category: Uncategorized


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