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The Smith Westerns are from Chicago, and as far as we can tell are either named after a tourist trinket manufacturer in Tacoma or a chain of honkytonk restaurants in south England. Maybe both. Imagine being on family vacation somewhere kind of corny and sucky but running into a girl or boy who is also on family vacation in the same corny, sucky place. You guys buy each other pins from the gift shop at the foot of a rollercoaster, maybe they're little cowboy hats. You throw some skeeball. Then you go back to your hometowns and write each other crazy letters for the rest of the summer while listening to Marc Bolan. That's what this song sounds like. So maybe they know what they're doing with the name. Regardless, this shit is so good we ha...