Review of Flint's White Trash Folklore

The north Florida music scene has been a hot bed for the better part of five years now to the point that bands around here are a dime a dozen. Pierce an unusual body part or tattoo your anatomy, start a band and the likelihood that a fan base will follow is nearly guaranteed. Record companies hover around this area looking for the next moneymaking music machine. Put out a few demos and instant fame could be just around the corner. The exception to this rule is established St. Titosburg band Flint. The reshaped garage pop quintet have been pounding away at the tri-state club circuit and finally landed a record deal by garnering a rabid local following.

The result is White Trash Folklore, a decent, shamelessly unoriginal body of work. Lyrically, Trash evokes dank, hopeless images of angst that listeners have heard before in trivial, monosyllabic pop/rock acts like Bush or Hole. Narcissistic singer/songwriter Cody Jackson cynically belts out each successive song with nastiness and I imagine a sneer to rival Billy Idol. His soft, raspy voice sounds like he is trying to cop the style of Willie Nelson or George Michael but he can’t seem to make up his mind of which he wants to blatantly imitate. Guitarist Juwan Pilgrim most likely went to Peter Buck of R.E.M.’s school of recording and specialized in classes Automatic for the People. Obviously more talented than Jackson, it is Pilgrim who is forced to shoulder more of the load on this album. With a first album, a formula is usually used to establish an identity but in Flint's case, the band swims through genres of music like it owns them all yet Flint fails any attempt to master just one. White Trash Folklore is not horrible but fans who obsess about their live show most likely will be disappointed.