Album Reviews

Having been drowned to within an inch of its life, New Orleans, source of great musical innovations and revivals, birthplace of early jazz and classic rock, purveyor of fundamental funk, and mother of idiosyncratic geniuses beyond number, is still in the process of washing off the mud and putting the pieces back together again.

Take Coheed and Cambria vocals (only far more harsh and severe), some of At the Drive-In’s experimental noise, and a bit of Rancid’s edgy speed and you’ll get an idea of what the Blood Brothers sound like.

Remember when music was fun? Like when you were in high school trying to get a band together so you could rock-out while pretending to be your favorite group, and maybe get a date or two out of it? For many of us that was long ago, but for Born Ruffians it was last week, and their debut EP is brimming with a cheeky exuberance that seems only to inhabit those still in teendom.

Here’s hoping they enjoy it, because being able to get away with completely copping every hook and every look from your favorite bands can only last so long and get you so far before people start calling you this decades Stone Temple Pilots. Not that that hasn’t already started to happen to Born Ruffians, who seem to be creating quite a backlash in certain circles. Give ‘em a Google and you’ll soon see a whole lot of words like “pretentious”, “contrived”, “derivative”, and “unoriginal” popping up. Best of all is that they’re saying it like it’s a bad thing.

A young James Taylor arrived on the crowded late ‘60’s musical scene a mature, fully formed artist. His voice was unique, rich-sounding and immediately identifiable, as was his acoustic guitar playing. His songwriting was accomplished both lyrically and melodically well beyond his 20 years.

Whether the release of this album or Dylan's "plugging in" at Newport in 1965 enraged fans more is debatable, but whichever way you see it, everyone agrees that this record was reviled when first released back in the Spring of 1969.

Pete Townshend’s sprawling second rock opera, issued in the fall of 1973, uses the troubled teenaged character Jimmy to elucidate adolescent coming of age issues generally and those of post WWII English kids (like the four members of The Who) specifically.

They are expensive ($40.00), they are 200 grams thick, the titles are mostly inspired and as you might expect, the pressing and jacket quality are absolutely spectacular.