Stai Zitta Logo




We’re not the first

I hope we’re not the last
Cause I know we’re all

heading for that adult crash
The time is so little

the time belongs to us
Why is everybody in such a fucking rush?

Where is my Marlboro man
Where is his shiny gun
Where is my lonely ranger
Where have all the cowboys gone?



“There’s a new goth girl in school. She’s wearing a Lucky Charms T-Shirt”


One punk said to another. I’d just changed middle schools and labels were important! I didn’t know I was “goth” until I found out what Andrew said. Even though I literally LIVE for knowing that people talk about me-regardless of the tone-I was a little offended? I wanted to be punk, too!


Andrew’s hair was spiked with Elmer’s glue. You could always see some dried into white chunks by lunch time. He wore ironic flannel, more accessories than a bachelorette party and classic Converse (duh). He was already twice as tall as the rest of us so he tried to make up for that by sitting down a lot, with some instrument. Drums, guitar, whatever–I’m sure Andrew has even played a banjo at some point.


They say not to work with your friends. Because your friends make you do a Skype interview about your new album and then lose the recording of the call. Meanwhile, you’ve made your girlfriend take pictures of you in the desert, to go with this “cowboy themed” interview, which is now buried somewhere in a cyberspace dumpster, between embarrassing porn search histories and unflattering selfies.


I’m guessing I accidentally deleted the recording along with the voice memos I create and destroy daily, full of ideas which will make me rich and famous. I have to get rid of them otherwise someone might copy me! So then I forget the ideas altogether. Point is: I was hurt by this, too.


In high school, Andrew went Emo. Fair enough: I went down the Ghost World rabbit hole of vintage dresses and psycho eyebrows (I’ll pay big money to have all old pictures burned once I get famous). By 16, Andrew had straight-ironed bangs, painted-on jeans and an impressive list of venues he played around Chapel Hill. He went by “Buckthorn Superstar” and I went by “Rubiks Cube From Hell,” according to the song he wrote about me being “mean to boys.” 😈


By the time he hit college he was like John Cage on crack…very “experimental.” Andrew will literally send someone to kill me when he reads this, but *looks both ways* *lowers voice* I guess he was THE first HIPSTER?


We went to Appalachian State University, where you can major in cooking moonshine. He eventually ended up in Greensboro, where you can major in cooking meth. While we shared the mountains, though, he’d drive us home for weekends while smashing entire crates of Red Bull and giving me headaches from whatever screaming he was into at the moment.


He still chugs Red Bull on the road, but I don’t know what he listens to. I imagine that now it’s just animal sounds over soft piano arpeggios. He’s driven cross-country more times than that shitty writer you all read as teenagers. You know, Kristen Stewart was in the movie about his book? Anyway, Andrew is a road trip PRO. He has like, a big van now, that he sleeps in. He makes his own jerky to avoid spending money at the thousands of gas stations he pops into. Hasn’t he heard of shoplifting? In our Skype interview Andrew revealed his jerky recipe and other Road Tripping Tips but, alas, those things you will never know!



Anyway. Subcultures are dead, as is counter-culture and culture, in general. But labels still matter, so:


Andrew is a Cowboy now. But he’s the nue kind. Instead of shooting rascals in bars he’s taking down dudes on social media who worked with bigots.



Only stupid people don’t change their minds. I’m more Paris Hilton now than Polly Styrene. I’m slowly working my way to becoming one of those ‘suggested’ articles you see at the end of some other article, like, “This Retired Ex-Con Only Wears Bologne!” Andrew is working his way up to becoming an ~illusion.


His new album is, for his career, what XANAX is, for a day at the beach.



He’s not the only nue cowboy in America: consider the following artists and albums:


Kesha (Rainbow) A

Lady Gaga (Joanne) C-

Miley Cyrus (Younger Now) N/A

Andrew Weathers (Build a Mountain Where Our Bodies Fall) A+



“BUILD A MOUNTAIN WHERE OUR BODIES FALL” by Andrew Weathers Ensemble is like…Lana Del Rey for reformed hillbillies who know how to code.


It’s the perfect soundtrack to a film about aliens who come to earth to save us from Trump. And by “film” I mean “our reality in a few years.”


I suggest listening to it while:

-Eating canned beans with a butterknife

-Drinking (AMERICAN) Whiskey out of a brown paper bag

-Suffering a coke comedown

-Kissing a raccoon

-Petting a cow

-Gossiping with a goat

-Chewing on straw while subtweeting a racist




Yippee yo, yippee yeah
Yippee yo, yippee yeah
Yippee yo, yippee yeah
Yippee yo, yippee yeah
Yippee yo, yippee yeah

Oh, bondage, up yours!