HOBOKEN, N.J. -- Hip-Pocket Music is sometimes proud and sometimes embarrassed to be forced to own up to the release of "Trailer Trash from Hell" -- the debut CD by Ginger Snapp and the Snapp-Tones
Ginger Snapp and the Snapp-Tones ain't much to l [+]HOBOKEN, N.J. -- Hip-Pocket Music is sometimes proud and sometimes embarrassed to be forced to own up to the release of "Trailer Trash from Hell" -- the debut CD by Ginger Snapp and the Snapp-Tones
Ginger Snapp and the Snapp-Tones ain't much to look at and their electric country, jug band, folkie, Depression music CD has few commercial possibilities, but we at Hip-Pocket said "What the heck" and released it anyway.
The deciding factor was how ungainly they look onstage with bass player, six-foot-five Heartland Greg Lahrman towering over poor five-foot-four Ginger whose real name we have sworn not to reveal.
Jersey Paul, the guitar player, song writer, recording engineer, mixer and masterer, when questioned about the band's Hoboken, N.J., origins, frequently, eloquently and belligerently bellows: "Who says there ain't no country in New Jersey. Heck, we have a backyard and the backyard has a tree and the tree has a squirrel and the dog spends his days chasing the squirrel back up that tree. Tell me if that ain't country. Now, shut up and see if the waitress will comp us a round if we promise to be quiet"
We're not allowed to mention that he's actually from New York, but New York Paul just didn't have much of an alt-country ring to it.
Last but not least is Mac the Drummer who sits patiently on Jersey Paul's desk awaiting his next assignment. Please don't tell Mac that he has been replaced by a real human drummer since the CD was released and Jersey Paul has been eyeing a new Mac dual processor G5.
GINGER'S VERSION OF THE SNAPP-TONES STORY
Ginger Snapp was born last year in the imagination of Paul Kern, as he and wife Ruth drove from their home in Hoboken, N.J., throughout the South.
With Stops on their American roots-music road trip including Jamboree USA at the Capitol Theater in Wheeling, W. Va., a bunch of bars in Nashville, the Rum Boogie Cafe in Memphis and THE crossroads in Clarksdale, Miss., where the devil chickened out and wouldn't make a deal, they started hatching a plan for a Roots/Americana band.
After nearly two weeks with a choice of horrible Nashville music or hell and damnation Jesus stations on the car radio, their minds addled by too much liquor, fried food, and no salads or other roughage in their diets, they b
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