If you were to take certain, tabloid-style elements of the current music press as gospel, you may well be bludgeoned into submitting to the viewpoint that anyone involved in making rock records over the age of 25 is committing the aural equivalent of war crimes.
Additude-wise, that's all very well I suppose, but to unflinchingly adhere to this philosophy is a tad naive, especially when there are bands of the calibre of the newly-shortened and streamlined BLUES EXPLOSION out there.
Y'see, while Jon Spencer, Russell Simins and Judah Bauer may never see 21 again, theirs is a band who - like The Ramones, MC5 and The Gun Club before them - are plugged into the very source of rock'n'roll. And so, while they've now been plying their trade in this form since 1991 and "Damage" is their umpteenth album, it again comes stamped with all the hallmarks of a career best.
The spunked-up, Stones-y raunch of trailer single "Burn It Off" demonstrated how hot and spicy the Blues Explosion's bitchin' brew is circa 2004, and it's by no means the only standout during "Damage"s committed and impassioned 40 minute rollercoaster ride. Swaggering in on beetlecrushing beats and chest-beatin' braggodocio from Spencer ("You ain't never gonna top us, you ain't gonna beat us - CAN YOU DIG MY BAND?"), the title track is a V-flicking statement of intent, and as the album rolls onwards we get consummate Blues Explosion workouts like the phonky bounce of "Crunchy" (dig that Dr.John-style piano!) and the burpy, semi-acoustic delta rumble of "Rattling."
Elsewhere, da Blues Explosion got DA FUNK! "Baby, whatcha gonna do? There's a war goin' on and they're blamin' it on me and you" mutters the suave Mr.Spencer as the loaded, Blaxploitation grooves of "Hot Gossip"get spurred on by clavinet, expressive guitar work from Judah Bauer and Chuck D himself bringing the noize. Sublime stuff, as are the Hurricane Ivan-strength punkabilly of "Mars, Arizona" where Simins batters his hi-hat within millimetres of its' life and the claustrophobic post-punk of "Rivals", where the boys lock horns with NYC no-wave horn-player James Chance and both parties make it out bloodied but unbowed.
|
The Explosion's thirst for reinvention remains admirable, and it's no surprise they welcome the opportunity to rip up their own blueprints as DJ Shadow throws in some UNKLE-meets-Grandmaster Flash moves to the otherwise full-on, Beastiess-style lunacy of "Fed Up And Low Down." "Spoiled" is another notable stylistic departure with its' bongoes, chiming guitar and (erk!) cello, but guest Martina Topley Bird adds some gospel oomph to the chorus and ultimately its' decaying minimalism is rather attractive.
"We are not in the service of the devil, but sometimes I feel his sick breath on my behind," howls Spencer during the malicious boogie of "Help These Blues." You said it, man. "Damage"is the sound of full moon at the crossroads, The Blues Explosion wresting hold of Old Nick's flamethrower and rendering all accusations of ageism utterly redundant.
|
