Half imaginary spaghetti-western score, half ragtime saloon brawl, and half pirated cowboy movie samples (how many halves is that?), Whiskey Flats is like a night out on the range, gathered ’round a low fire with some chaw-gnawing men who don’t talk much. Just the sounds of the dark desert winds, somebody peein’ over by the cattle, and some tired hands fiddlin’ with a banged-up acoustic guitar. There’s good, there’s bad, and there’s ugly, all courtesy of hard-drinkin’ (but harder-gamblin’) LVC chief, Joe Kendall. He’s helped out on most tunes by the good Jacob Smigel, who pitches in coffee-can percussion, homesick harmonica, and lonesome singin’ where need be. A 16-track masterpiece nearly two years in the making, Whiskey Flats is the Dodge City of gun-slinging folk music. Covers printed on 50-year-old aged onion paper found at a tumbleweed-strewn yard sale, and accompanied by a dusty pamphlet of wild west funnies.