The Moaners

Lara Croft, Trinity, Beatrix Kiddo: Listening to The Moaners’ sleek, brawny garage-blues sound, one is reminded of the toughest female action film heroes—the kind that don’t just kick ass, but do so with such grim determination and stoic cool that they recall Clint Eastwood’s Man With No Name. Clad in distortion like black leather, Melissa Swingle wrings thudding, bottom-heavy swagger from her six-string. It’s a swampy, mud-caked, percussive rumble inspired by Swingle’s Mississippi roots. Drummer Laura King is her Pancho Villa, always at her side or just a step behind, thwacking her kit with reverberating intensity. She’s like a rapper’s hype-man, never letting the audience lose track of the ominous roar.

Swingle first attracted attention fronting Chapel Hill gothic country act Trailer Bride. Her drawling delivery augmented the music’s spooky air across the five albums they released over a dozen-year tenure. After the band broke up in 2004, Swingle recruited former Gerty and Grand National drummer King to form The Moaners. Swingle’s murky guitar sinew complements her menacing vocal dispassion, while King’s keen, never-too-busy timekeeping suggests the bell that tolls for thee. They soon signed to Yep Roc, releasing their debut, Dark Snack, in 2005, and following that in 2007 with Blackwing Yalobusha, which cracks open the windows a bit and lets some air mingle with the sweaty heft. They’ve since left Yep Roc for Holidays For Quince, who will release their next, still-untitled album later this tear. Recorded with Nick Petersen and Jenks Miller, it shelves the quaking blues cataclysm in favor of a more delicate, earnestly soulful vibe. Perhaps it’s a departure, but what were the Moaners after Trailer Bride? Swingle pulled that off without a hitch, so there’s even less reason to doubt her now. —Chris Parker