From the burnt brown plains of Bastard County, Kansas — where you can’t drink the water, but the whiskey flows like wine — I bring to you TinHorn Molly, pastoral purveyors of fine Americana, with songs plucked raw from the fields of the American Midwest, tuned to a train whistle and played in the key of a hound. Songs to love laugh cry and kill to, all in the rusted scrap iron sound of a three piece junkyard orchestra.