NYC art students rockin’ out – ‘scuse me while I stifle a yawn – or so I think. Their MC5 cop-offs circa, like, Back in the USA actually goes down alright.
It’s nice to see Jon Spencer Blues Explosion rockin’ unhomogenized again, cuz their last couple records’ stylized missteps sorta brought ’em down a peg or two.
These Jersey punk vets properly pissed about wussy poppunk saach get revenge by slashing out damn near a dozen buzzsaw scorchers that come off real catchy.
Link Wray with a realization of The Cramps’ realization of ’60s punk and a modicum of pop-cultural awareness, plus a nice dollup of a freakin’ sense of humor.
Synth-rock without some big freakin’ pretension of art. Kinda like, I dunno, Servatron, like mebbe if Devo had been as cool as everyone assumes them to be.
Libertine plays slower than American Heartbreak, so mebbe they’re more sensitive, or wussy or somethin’ and sometimes they remind me of a John Hughes movie.
Ya almost gotta pity this guy’s rhythm section cuz they gotta play essentially the same thing for seemingly hours on end whilst Stevie Ray Vaughan wanks.
Libertine plays slower than American Heartbreak, so mebbe they’re more sensitive, or wussy or somethin’ and sometimes they remind me of a John Hughes movie.
Puffball likes cars and songs about cars and since Gearhead’s a label/mag that’s about car culture and stuff, y’know, gearheads, so they’re a great match.
Some is the straight-forward blues Payton played at home, bars, and bait shops around Washington County, Mississippi. Some of it’s goosed-up with studio beats.
This comp is the aural equivalent of invitin’ all yer rowdy friends over for an eviction party, but with the security of not bein’ homeless the next day.
The Kinks were pretty good to a point there until Ray Davies got rich and ditched the greasy stuff and started writing songs about preserving village greens.