Some music is made for dancin’. Some is made for thinkin’. And then again, some is made for drinkin’. With the debut of Bartenders Bible, the sounds of a cruel summer’s Southwestern buzz have never been more audible.

The five-song EP treads progressive steps toward new ground on the country-rock front, while paying homage to the classic styles of greats like Johnny Cash and Neil Young. Fluid acoustic guitar and viscous upright bass tones pour the core first round. From there, steel guitar, melodic organ, twangy banjo, outlaw electric solos, and howling back-up singers give extra bite to each shot. And with his gravel-chewing vocals and bittersweet anthems, leadman James Corbin is almost more Beam-soaked than the Man in Black himself.

Although the sound isn’t really complicated and the lyrics aren’t wildly introspective, the band’s premiere release is distinct and affecting. These are songs of forgotten towns, loves gone wrong, and cross-eyed, all-night benders. The music puts you right there: all the roads look the same, the air is bone-dry, the sun bakes through the open ragtop of your convertable ‘79 Cadillac Eldorado, and you can almost taste the stale beer in the shanty saloon on the dusty, cactus-ridden roadside. It’s an easy place to get lost. But with the right guidance from Bartenders Bible, the road to musical salvation is closer than you think. -By Mike Fish