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Demos, demos, demos. Over 126-plus demos in various folders. Sin City: the demon child of lockdown in small-town Alicante, Spain, and two grounded touring musicians more used to the grind of pack-in, pack-out, play play play. Match-fit and champing at the bit, these two men smelled of the road. The songs had that feel in them too—no looking back, no prisoners taken. Some furious spirit of dusty plains and arid rocks, boots, guitars, flourescent lighting, heartache and orange sun. We narrowed it down to 20 songs for the session.

To get through these songs in three studio days, I suggested a live band set up. Play the songs pretty much as they were and move fast. Some hired guns to keep things streamlined. We ended up recording 25 songs.

Was there fist pumping? Was there cheap pizza? Was there a visit from a heavy-looking investor? Yes.
Were there tears? Were there ecstatic embraces? Were there long, shiny-eyed discussions about the vibes? No.
These were match-fit touring musicians, remember? 
Squarely in their domain.

And - as the songs piled up under the Nudie suit umbrella that united their work into some frankensteined collection of blue-eyed soul, chicha, balladeering rockers and drinking songs of love left behind - any deviation, any doubt, any questionable note or possible reason for further investigation was swept aside in the juggernaut drive and momentum of this squirrelly-eyed session, and a lone phrase emerged that gave it all an almost utilitarian clarity: “That’s Classic Sin City”.

D. Davidson

Sin City are a pack of bar-crawling crooners who found themselves quarantined in a sleazy flat in Alicante, Spain with only a guitar and piano. In a haze of beer, gin, rum, red wine and hamburgers they wrote and recorded a vast collection of songs based on their love for Mink Deville, Gram Parsons, Glen Campbell, Phil Spector, Van Morrison and various country, soul and rock n roll records.

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