Randomaxe 2026
East Coast dwellers spread happiness and sorrow all around the world to celebrate the past by boosting it to the present tense.
The Rock Is Still Rollin’
The image of Sisyphus pushing a boulder up a hill can hardly be synonymous with a musical genre it implies, because futility and effort didn’t informed any part of the things Chuck Berry or Little Richard used to do, yet if the picture suggests eternity, that’s exactly what these Brooklynites aim at on the album which emerges soon after their ensemble’s three-decade anniversary. The passage of time and emotional baggage accompanying temporal shifts play a pivotal role here, on the record steeped in merriment and drama in equal measure, where each histrionic snippet of vocal is perfectly counterbalanced with total instrumental abandon, as befits an array of songs rooted in the period when feelings were worn on a fringed sleeve and everything seemed much simpler. At least, such a concept should lure the listener into “The Rock Is Still Rollin'” before taking the audience on a rather adventurous trip.
The platter’s outset may sound a tad confusing, however, as proper good-time grooves don’t make their way to the fore until the second track, the tellingly titled “Have Some Fun Tonight,” delivers the goods right away by laying down a twangy rumble – but, preceding it, “Born To Roll” almost blows the punters’ expectations to pieces by offering, after a splash of chamber-boogie piano, a serious slice of prog rock. And why not if Zan Burnham’s guitars pile on tasty harmonies and catchy riffs which never veer too far from the band’s original intent to go wild and have a field day with their chosen genre’s essentials while many other art-minded performers break that lifeline very easily. When one of this epic’s six chapters distills the flow to acoustic strum and organ to prepare the ground for an electric six-string attack, strains of pure rapture start to reign supreme, revealing the album’s primal drive no arresting solemnity can disguise and explaining the absence of voices on the glorious eight-minute ride deserving of a separate context.
Surprises don’t end here, because the airily robust “Dog Days” draws on spiritual country only to ignite Burnham’s fingerwork, “Double Life” marries heavy figures and stunning fretboard to burnished singalong, and “Friends” unexpectedly opts for middle-of-the-road, orchestral balladry. Still, once lyrics begin to bounce between Philip Dessinger – who, sadly, died close to the record’s release – and Angela Watson, different kinds of delight fill the ether via a series of foot-stomping numbers, including the infectiously shuffling, slider-oiled “Mama Was A Train Wreck” borrowed from fellow New Yorker Karen Hudson’s repertoire, and “Hard To Get” which brings sax into a solid jive that Marko Djordjevic’s drums propel beyond the Bo Diddley beat’s animalism. And though “Ready To Say Goodbye” reaches for a quasi-sleazy vibe, and “She Left Me (The Love I Had)” serenades the past in the most charming chamber, albeit cynical, manner, the harmonica-helped “That Flame” leaves innuendos behind in favor of trad Americana, and “Happy Go Lucky” relies on lounge jazz to soothe the nerves.
This calm will be derailed for the ensemble to deliver a concert romp through “Rockin’ n’ Rollin’ On Down The Road” which serves up a memorable finale, and that’s a great place to wrap up the unevenly riveting record: that’s the gist of creative continuity and the warranty of longevity in the genre many dabble with yet precious few dig.
****1/2
