Now that Bro-country rules the radio, songs about dirt roads, tan legs and tall cans have the monopoly on what Love in the American South is all about.
Crash Bang Burn, however, has a slightly different take.
In Georgia, family is supposed to be bedrock, and love a non-stop summertime—but it’s actually more like quicksand and a bad burn, at least for Braylee and Edie.
Nashville might have penned a song or two about the glories of mama, but nobody mentioned the indoctrinated apron strings that keep grown men tethered like pups to a teat. Which works out great for the Mother Knows Best types—not so great if you’re the “little tramp he married,” like Braylee.
And as for a country boy like Cross, sex is as easy as telling a girl to “slide on over” in his jacked-up truck. But what’s he supposed to do the morning after, when doe-eyed girls like Edie wake up with a case of the Post-Coitus Ties-That-Bind? Because son, those ties can cut off your air supply faster than you can say “chew tobacco, spit.”
Set in the ruralburbs of Nowhere, Georgia, and told through the eyes of three lovers, Crash Bang Burn is a dark, emotionally honest depiction of love and sex, birth and motherhood, divorce and revenge that deep fries the delusions peddled on the silver screen of CMT. Because it’s high time that those three-minute anthems about tan lines and tailgates got held up to the light—or got a firecracker stuck up their tailpipe—or both.