For the past couple of years, The Drunken Poachers, with their wily ways and wooden instruments, have snuck boot-clad and boozed onto Melbourne’s live music stages. A dubious sextet not to be trusted, poaching the tunes of others. After a white-wash of their brand of Irish-blue-grass-country, they declare what never belonged to them, their own.
Dishonest and dirty and wearing flannelette better than you do, they’re leaving heavy heads and dented floors in their very catchy wake. With the aid of banjo, gee-tah, ukulele and mandolin, backed by Irish fiddle, uke bass and propped up with lager phone and a trifle of trumpet, their hearty harmonic throat is unlike any other.
The Drunken Poachers have a bashful approach to making feet tap and will be your best laid plan when you are out and on the hunt. Don’t go past The Drunken Poachers if you’re in to a band who will have your feet tapping to the bar and back. And back again.