All Night – Review

All Night

(Tee Pee)
by Brian Varney

All Night plays the sort of classic rock that inevitably garners comparisons to the Rolling Stones even though they don’t really sound like ’em because, really, what else is there to compare this stuff to? It’s sorta like the stock comparison of stoner bands to Sabbath or garage bands to the Stooges. All Night plays classic rock with a boozy swagger and a sneering non-punk attitude, which automatically garners comparisons to the Stones just because they are the most famous example of a great rock band with that sort of attitude.

But, as I said, this doesn’t really sound like any Stones record I have, and I’ve got a lot of ’em, bucko. Yeah, the songs are about the same sorta stuff (cars, girls, wine, you know the drill), but All Night has three guys that can (and do) sing, harmonizing when they’re not singing lead. I don’t know who’s who as far as singers, but one of ’em sounds like a young Steven Tyler, always a good thing in my book. The playing’s raw and rough around the edges, the vocal harmonies are tough but not shiny, the lead vocals reek of Thunderbird-saturated soul, and the finished product swaggers so naturally that you’d swear they’ve been playing together since they were 16 when, in fact, they’ve been together less than a year. This considered, these are probably the first songs the band wrote, a fact which bodes tremendously for the band’s future as songwriters.

Every single song on here’s a doozy, but my favorites are “So Long,” which effortlessly conjures the atmosphere of your favorite stankin’ roadhouse/BBQ, joint, “Back to Life,” the sort of non-metal headbanging tune that hooks me every time someone writes it, and “Say You’re Scared,” a bleary-eyed, sensitive tough-guy ballad like Phil Lynott’s finer moments.

Musically and emotionally, this is fairly deep stuff, so you’ll probably hate it the first time through. I did, anyway… But give it at least three spins before you toss it. It’ll grab you if you’ve got any soul in your bones. If it doesn’t… well, it sucks to be you.
(PO Box 20307 New York, NY 10009)