But it also serves as a link to their past in Hermann, eighty miles west of St. Essentially, itвЂ™s their way of announcing that dumb boys are fixing to do some really dumb stuff (like the time at a festival when someone ended up in the basket of a crane after several bottles of whiskey). Rateliff and his best friend and bandmate, Joseph Pope III, have an expression: to вЂњgo MissouriвЂќ on something. вЂњI didnвЂ™t drink for six months and seriously went to therapy,вЂќ he says. He became determined to make amends, and today says things are on a much more solid footing. His marriage was on the rocks, and he had started drinking heavily. The song actually has its roots in a troubled time while Rateliff was recording in England a few years ago. Rather thereвЂ™s a despondent, nihilistic peer into an empty bottle where ornery demons coat the bottom. HeвЂ™s right itвЂ™s not exactly an uplifting toast, despite its beery, shout-along chorus. But, really, do they even listen to the lyrics?вЂќ вЂњI wrote that song two years ago and I didnвЂ™t want it on the record,вЂќ Rateliff says of вЂњS.O.B.вЂќ вЂњBut it makes sense why people like it, talking about drinking and swearing. The fabled Memphis soul label Stax released the bandвЂ™s 2015 self-titled debut. Despite the recent fawning, Rateliff is actually a seasoned veteran: HeвЂ™s a beloved figure in the music scene in Denver, where he has lived for eighteen years, recording a couple of acclaimed solo albums in the folk-rock vein as well as playing in other bands before forming the Night Sweats. Roch Market, a short walk from the cemetery, and orders an early-afternoon whiskey and Coke.

вЂњWho knew?вЂќ Rateliff says as he slides into a seat at the bar in the St. It hit number one on BillboardвЂ™s Adult Alternative chart and also crossed over to top-ten status in multiple genres, something that even the celebrated Alabama Shakes havenвЂ™t pulled off. Jimmy Fallon saw a YouTube video of the band and booked them on his show, which helped propel вЂњS.O.B.вЂќ to become the top viral track globally on Spotify. The song, as the world now knows, is вЂњS.O.B.,вЂќ a bawdy, knee-slapping soul anthem that has pulverized its way through the pop music ceiling. That the breakthrough would come from this burly singer who looks like he could either make a mean craft cocktail or chop off your head with an ax makes it even more bizarre.

вЂњBut thatвЂ™sвЂќ-he points to a plaster foot-вЂњreally weird.вЂќДЇor all of the effusive chatter and ink thatвЂ™s been spilled recently over a revival of classic soul, one thing hadnвЂ™t yet emerged: a bona fide hit song. вЂњI donвЂ™t always take care of myself like I should,вЂќ he says. Inside the cemeteryвЂ™s chapel is a side room filled with discarded prostheses and crutches, tokens of gratitude left by the devout. вЂњWeвЂ™ve had so many deaths in my family, at this point my mom just wants to be burned up when she goes.вЂќ Rateliff, who is thirty-seven, grew up in a deeply religious household in Hermann, Missouri, but has struggled with his faith through the years. вЂњAre those the cheap ones?вЂќ he asks with a gravelly laugh, scorched by the previous nightвЂ™s vessel-popping vocals and postshow whiskey. Now heвЂ™s got a few hours to kill before filming a commercial for Apple Music.Д«arrel-chested and dressed in head-to-toe denim, shades of blue fading into black, he stops in front of a section of graves where tombs are stacked on top of each other, rather than given their own spot. The night before, he and his band, the Night Sweats, took over the venerable club TipitinaвЂ™s, whipping the crowd into an ecstatic froth with their brand of primal, wall-shaking soul. Roch is said to have effected miraculous cures, and if there were one for a hangover, Rateliff would probably take it. Roch Cemetery, one of the cityвЂ™s most cherished burial sites, Nathaniel Rateliff walks toward the chapel, trailed by Jules, his effervescent wife of seven years. ItвЂ™s a warm, sticky November afternoon in New Orleans, the type of muggy that makes you wonder if the locals who say it really does cool off here come fall have had one too many French 75s.

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