Beggar Weeds - Tragedy in U.S. History
L.H. “Buddy” & Debra Hough opened the Museum of Tragedy in U.S. History in their own home, next door to the Old Jail in St. Augustine in 1965. Buddy’s acceptance into the Chamber of Commerce, after years of fighting the old city’s take on his collection’s “articles of dubious authenticity and decidedly bad taste” briefly improved traffic at the museum. Beggar Weeds grew up on Florida field trips to roadside attractions, citrus stands and critter zoos, and together they celebrated the music and stories of their shared Panhandle roots. Their telling is urgent, driven by tuneful voices of three brothers from other mothers baying over taut beats, forecasting the imminent alt-country movement. The yarns and their delivery are fresh and unburdened by pomp and wizardry. David Fricke writes of the band in Melody Maker, “In short, a delightful surprise that flies in the face of fashion.
Beggar Weeds - Tragedy in U.S. History
L.H. “Buddy” & Debra Hough opened the Museum of Tragedy in U.S. History in their own home, next door to the Old Jail in St. Augustine in 1965. Buddy’s acceptance into the Chamber of Commerce, after years of fighting the old city’s take on his collection’s “articles of dubious authenticity and decidedly bad taste” briefly improved traffic at the museum. Beggar Weeds grew up on Florida field trips to roadside attractions, citrus stands and critter zoos, and together they celebrated the music and stories of their shared Panhandle roots. Their telling is urgent, driven by tuneful voices of three brothers from other mothers baying over taut beats, forecasting the imminent alt-country movement. The yarns and their delivery are fresh and unburdened by pomp and wizardry. David Fricke writes of the band in Melody Maker, “In short, a delightful surprise that flies in the face of fashion.
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L.H. “Buddy” & Debra Hough opened the Museum of Tragedy in U.S. History in their own home, next door to the Old Jail in St. Augustine in 1965. Buddy’s acceptance into the Chamber of Commerce, after years of fighting the old city’s take on his collection’s “articles of dubious authenticity and decidedly bad taste” briefly improved traffic at the museum. Beggar Weeds grew up on Florida field trips to roadside attractions, citrus stands and critter zoos, and together they celebrated the music and stories of their shared Panhandle roots. Their telling is urgent, driven by tuneful voices of three brothers from other mothers baying over taut beats, forecasting the imminent alt-country movement. The yarns and their delivery are fresh and unburdened by pomp and wizardry. David Fricke writes of the band in Melody Maker, “In short, a delightful surprise that flies in the face of fashion.
