The Cowboys

Bloomington’s banner burners, The Cowboys, continue to be a Midwest secret gem that only gets better with age. The band has long been tapping the well of garage, R&B, power pop, and roots rock, and they give that familiar stew a stir and a bit of gloss on their latest, Sultan of Squat. The band took a bit of a break over the past couple of years as songwriter Keith Harman spent some time with side-project Good Looking Son. They’re back in prime form on Squat, though, and just in time to heat up the second half of the summer. The power pop current that carries through their catalog is in high form this time around, pounding through pianos and percolating like Sparks in one moment, rolling in the dirt like Royal Headache in another. The band’s core appeal has always been lodged in their jocularity and wit, both of which drive the heart of Sultan of Squat. There are few moments that feel delivered without a wink and a smile — a smirk that’s full of mischief and rakish charms — though even when their hearts are tied to the sleeve, they carry a sparkle of joy in their eyes.

Those rakish charms often come courtesy of Harman’s vocals, which sluice through the speakers with a refreshing swagger. The band’s often employed playful nods to American culture on their records, but more than most Sultan is steeped in a rust-belt ribaldry — a feeling like the songs would slide seamlessly from open car windows to the back bar jukebox if The Shoes and Rubinoos had taken over the world. The album’s wistfulness and ease stands in pretty stark contrast to their 2020 outing Room of Clons, which found quite a bit of synth and cynicism crowd into their sound. While the world could certainly use its fair share of the latter, sometimes it’s nice to have an album of pure escape, and The Sultan of Squat feels like the lost power pop classic we need to pull the thread through the darkness.

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