Saddle up and ride with The Meme Grass Outlaws, a ragtag crew of musically mischievous critters who blend rustic folk charm with internet-infused chaos. Fronted by a posse of banjo-picking doodles, fiddle-sawing goats, and harmonizing woodland troublemakers, their songs echo through Appalachian hills and meme-filled valleys alike.

Their debut single, "Rich Men North of New Richmond," stomps with a foot-tappin', banjo-slappin' rhythm, intertwining biting satire, soulful storytelling, and a bluegrass spirit that feels as timeless as it does irreverently fresh. With melodies as catchy as your favorite viral video and lyrics sharper than a Twitter roast, The Meme Grass Outlaws are set to rustle up laughs, feels, and good old-fashioned rebel spirit.

Hop aboard their meme-grass train, hit play, and join the outlaw animals taking the internet—and your eardrums—by storm.



The Meme Grass Outlaw

"Rich Men North of New Richmond" sounds like a boot-stomping dirge for forgotten Ohioans—equal parts protest, elegy, and call to arms. It's the kind of song you'd expect to echo through a shuttered steel mill or blare from a rusty pickup on a backroad with no cell signal.

Sonic Profile:

Vocals: Raw, gravel-dragged male lead—world-weary but defiant. You can hear the broken promises in his voice. Backed by a haunting, mournful harmony from a female vocalist that drips with quiet rage.

Instruments: Acoustic guitar driving the rhythm like a ticking clock. Fiddle weeping in the background. Occasional slide guitar like a warning whistle. Sparse percussion—mostly kick, snare, and boot-heel on hardwood.

Tone: Appalachian gothic with a hint of Springsteen's Nebraska, but angrier. Less storytelling, more indictment.

Lyrics (inferred from mood and title):

Verse 1 probably name-checks East Palestine, closed factories, and crooked mayors in Columbus.

Chorus punches: "Well-to-do folks North of New Richmond / Counting coins while we count losses."

Second verse likely throws shade at both parties—equal contempt for red ties and blue suits.

Bridge may recall Ohio’s past glory: aviation, presidents, moon landings—contrasted with modern decay.



Genre:

Genre Tagline: “Rust Belt Folk Revival”
Think: if Woody Guthrie ghostwrote for Sturgill Simpson during an economic collapse.


This track doesn’t pull punches. It grips your collar, smells like diesel, and whispers: "You were sold out, son. Time to punch back."

You want liner notes next? Or a fake review quote from Rolling Stone?



Rich Men North of New Richmond

What happens when two outlaw folk singers refuse to save a glitching god-ape at the Cincinnati Zoo and break the universe with a bluegrass banger? Welcome to Harambe’s Jugband Requiem—a boot-stomping, bottle-blowing, banjo-shredding anthem where reality shatters like stained glass and memes become law. Fiddles scream, timelines spiral, and history’s ghost dances in the ruins. This is Appalachian apocalypse music: raw vocals, cosmic storytelling, and enough energy to tear a hole in the fabric of time.

Sing along if you dare—just don’t blame us when your world gets weird.

#Bluegrass #Folk #TimelineWreckers #Harambe #MemeApocalypse #BananaRepublicNorth

Glass Shards and Gorilla Ghosts

Legend of the Lost Pack

A cosmic carnival of chaos and pride, “Only in Ohio” is a rowdy, soulful anthem celebrating the weirdest heartland on Earth. Opening with a dreamy daydream sequence and crashing into a danceable folk-blues explosion, the track fuses foot-stompin’ bluegrass roots with a New Orleans brass frenzy and meme-soaked satire. The gruff male vocalist narrates a fever dream of frogmen, chili, and haunted billboards, while the smoky female lead fires back with punchlines and swagger. The dance breakdown blends the Electric Slide and Macarena into a surreal line-dance meltdown, inviting the listener to both laugh and let go. Underneath the humor lies radical acceptance and defiant pride: Scioto floods so y’all don’t have to. It's Appalachian absurdity meets internet-age mythmaking.

A love letter to every gas station gator wedding, haunted Denny’s, and dogman sighting ever whispered under Ohio’s moon. Play it loud, stomp like Bigfoot, and remember:
You don’t visit Ohio—you survive it.

Only in Ohio

🎧 DJ Bangerz MF
One man. Unlimited bass. Zero chill.

Cincinnati-born. Galaxy-certified. DJ Bangerz MF doesn’t drop tracks — he detonates them. From underground house to glitchy trap, his sets slap harder than your stepdad in 2003.

🎶 Expect:

Beats with bite

Grooves that glitch your brain

Samples stolen from God’s hard drive

Built for warehouse raves, 2AM drive-thrus, and end-of-the-world house parties. If it doesn’t make you question your moral alignment, it ain’t a Bangerz track.

👾 Collabs open. DMs monitored by a barely functional AI.
🔥 Everything louder than necessary.