Album

Deadshot is the third record from Dixie Deadshot, and the first where she stops explaining. After Three Warrants told you who she is and Route 119 told you where she's from, this one drops cold with no intro and doesn't let up: ten tracks of the hardest production in her catalog, built on clawhammer banjo played like a hi-hat and 808s rattling the cracked stereo of a 2009 F-250. It's Appalachian trap as mission statement, a record that argues mountain music and Southern trap are cousins from the same root, kept apart so they could be dismissed one at a time. The swagger is earned. "Three (Warrants Reprise)" turns her record into a credential, "What She Said to the Commissioner" finally reads the full public-minutes statement that got her charged with disorderly conduct, and "Cody" pays tribute to the Floyd County manager who bet on her bathroom-recorded EP before anyone else would. Between the noise are sharp refusals, like "Gas Light On," a song that insists an empty tank is just an empty tank, before the closer "Still Standing" drops the volume and shows what's underneath: a tired woman, still in the county, still on 119, still making the loud thing and the true thing.