Sam Canty knows the power of a Treaty Oak Revival concert, but he long ago stopped trying to make any sense of it. “I can’t believe I’m making somebody feel like this or act like this,” says the band’s frontman of the crowd-surfing and beer-hurling that seems to follow the five-piece on the road.

After a two-year run in which the group went from clubs to theaters to arenas, buoyed by a string of platinum and gold singles and one of the most exciting live experiences in all of music, Treaty Oak Revival are on the brink of bona fide superstardom. The independent outfit’s third studio album, the 14-track West Texas Degenerate that dropped on Friday, is poised to remove that “brink” caveat for good.

It’s also an album that finds a band who rocketed to fame in Texas with songs about prost

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