Willamette Week – Aug. 16, 2016

“Set against bristling, decorous soundscapes ever hinting at playful release, Federale jefe Collin Hegna unfurls a honeyed baritone that calls to mind Scott Walker at the Grand Ole Opry—or, for the title track’s scorched-country duet, a reverse-engineered Lee Hazlewood and Nancy Sinatra. The best of these songs were made for tuneful, robust talking. And, with enviable grace, that’s just what they do.”

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Willamette Week – Sept. 23, 2009

“The group’s music, both live and recorded, features a blend of classic genre instrumentation: whistling, noisemakers and samples. It’s a lush, fully realized sound that flawlessly conjures the spirit of Italian western maestro-composer Ennio Morricone, circa 1966.”

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Portland Mercury – Sept. 25, 2009

“Poor Jake. The railroad folk slaughtered his family, took his land, buried him alive, yet the man refuses to rest until the day the dusty streets run red with vengeance. Well, that and blood. This is the tale that unfolds through Devil in a Boot, the excellent new full-length from spaghetti western instrumentalists Federale. When it comes to this genre you can’t swing a bandolier full of shotgun shells without hitting the legacy of Ennio Morricone, but Federale are respectful in their path, crafting a graceful and stylistic sound that sprawls out as a soundtrack to some hidden western cinematic gem.”

Willamette Week – Jan. 23, 2007

“Federale, which finally releases its debut disc, Music From La Rayar, tonight at Kelly’s Olympian, is like no other Portland band—and perhaps no regional band since the heyday of Eugene’s Los Mex Pistols. La Rayar features both over-the-top, horn-heavy anthems (“White Cloud,” “El Rey”) that beg for gunfights and more thoughtful ambient pieces (“Resurrection”) that call for itchy trigger fingers at high noon, but never for a minute does the listener forget that he or she is in the Wild West…Italian style.”

Portland Mercury – January 23, 2007

“Close your eyes and let the whistled melodies, wooden flutes, rattling snare drums, twangy guitars, and trumpets pour in. It won’t take long before you feel the blazing sun and the arid breeze whipping across the dry, dusty land as that tall shadow begins to grow. You’ll notice the quiet stranger who owns this land doesn’t belong here. You’ll hear the pop and ping of his revolver. And you’ll know just where you are: in trouble. Right in the middle of the goddamn Wild West.”