The Neckbones

Souls on Fire (Fat Possum)
by Jon Sarre

Here’s more good stuff from the increasingly prolific Fat Possum label. This time, however, the artist’s not an elderly Mississippi bluesman with a bum leg, a paid-off debt to society and a bottomless reservoir of righteous anger. Instead, we got four deadend kids who dig drinkin’, drivin’, and gamblin’, and play in this really inept garage band that goes by the name of The Neckbones. “Ain’t got no money/ain’t got no fans” they see fit to admit at the beginning of “Love Ya Rock N’ Roll” and judging by the way they chug through the sixteen songs on Souls on Fire, they probably never will, but that’s just what happens when you devote your energies to sloppy, fun rock’n’roll and ignore that icy, mathematical pop muzak. Most of the stuff here smolders with a DMZ-meets-Pussy Galore stumbling inattention where the bass and drums drag the rhythm around and the guitars mostly provide a sort of aimless stuttering texture, the perfect backdrop for people who sing things like “All God’s kids, they wanna rock!” Hambone blues rock far outweighs any other stylistic option on Souls on Fire; thank God, cuz stuff like “Hit Me,” where a glutton for punishment can’t seem to walk away from a blackjack table, and the grimy-soundin’ “Who You Drivin’ Now” nitro-billy of “Superstar Chevrolet” end up transcending your average rock songs. Then, just for kicks, the Neckbones’ll throw in a pretty fuckin’ great swirling bottleneck guitar noisefest like “Dolly,” which, without all the fuzz, could almost pass for a country ballad. There’s also “Shouldn’t Call Your Old Man a Fool,” a ’50s doowop takeoff where the ditched boyfriend shoots the window’s outta his ex’s car “just for fun.” Hilarious, right? Hell, yes, ‘specially when ya consider the PC alturnaturds out there who lack what the Neckbones got: a sense of humor, attitude, and unrepentant bad habits. I’d take ’em over your Wilcos any day of the week and that’s the stone truth.