Dixie Dirt’s music has a bizarre intoxicating effect on people. Maybe because of their cult-leader-like talents, as of yet nobody’s been able to name their sound. “Appalachian art punk” was a favorite description from the Metro Pulse in Knoxville.

Fans try to wrap their minds around it by saying "you guys are like Wilco meets the Pixies" or "a cross between Tool and Radiohead but with Chan Marshall singing". Or this gem, "you sound like no other band ever but somehow your songs are so familiar, its like I put them on mixed tapes in junior high." Awww, we love you too.

Dixie Dirt’s live shows are the only place on the planet where punks, hippies, metalheads, hipsters, folkies, professors and rednecks can all hang out together and still play nice. The shows are so completely mind-blowing, people actually lose time then bitch at them for playing "for like only 30 minutes, man", after a two-hour set with an encore.

Their fans are often compelled to do weird shit after the show such as give the band hair clippings, anecdotes from childhood, make strange obsessive comments about living on a mountaintop with them, give them the clothes they’re wearing, start crying or buy one of their albums: Pieces of the World, On Our Way Like We Never Met, Springtime is for the Hopeless and Other Ideas.

If you missed them at Bonnaroo or Sundown in the City; fear not, they’re shopping a demo and will soon be in a city near you.