Roadsaw
Roadsaw
Small Stone

I owe a lot to my many years spent as a revolutionary in Sleazegrinder’s army, including my love for all things rock n’ roll in Boston. Early into this millennium I developed an unchecked focus on such bands as Cocked n’ Loaded, Cracktorch, Rock City Crimewave, Milligram, Coke Dealer, and The Humanoids. If only my town had a scene like that, man. And that’s saying nothing of Wild Zero, Noble Rot, and the legendary (in my mind, anyway) Kari Nations. But the king daddy of ‘em all was — and is — Roadsaw (a nod to their off-shoots, Antler and Quitter, as well), the one band who preceded and survived all others. Led by the godfather’s of Boston rock, Ian Ross (guitar), Tim Catz (bass), and Craig Riggs (vocals), Roadsaw have been hammering out Southern-dipped fuzz n’ roll songs for about 18 years now, publishing consistently punishing albums that seem to get a tad slicker and sleazier every time out, to the point now where Roadsaw just can’t help but exude a rock star God confidence larger than the sun. The proof on Roadsaw, their sixth full-length release, is Riggs’ vocal harmonies, which elevate thick-riffed songs like “Dead and Buried,” “Thinking of Me,” “Motel Shoot Out,” and “Song X” into searing arena hits, and any one of Ross’ petulant solos, which attack like a lust-hungry fiend, feverishly and often. Stoner rock rarely contains this kind of excitement, my friends. The band can still play quick and deadly, too, as evidenced by the mean n’ tasty rawk of “Weight in Gold,” “The Getaway” and “Too Much is Not Enough,” and what would a Roadsaw album be without its quintessential ballad, “Electric Heaven,” which stays plugged in but meanders about in a psych-haze of doom-like opulence before delivering the catchiest chorus on the entire album. No doubt about it; the bar has been set…and it’s really fucking high.

Listen to “Dead And Buried” from Roadsaw!

Night Horse
Perdition Hymns
Tee Pee

Even though they hail from the City of Angels, Night Horse carry themselves with that Americana swagger befitting East Coast brawlers, chucking big, dopey, boogie-fried riffs at you like ham-sized fists that leave deep, lasting bruises. Picking up where their 2008 debut, The Dark Won’t Hide You, left off, Perdition Hymns lays the Southern stoner rock on nice n’ thick, incorporating plenty of organ, slide, and 70s-infused boxcar blues to send you on a weed-eating nostalgia trip to Altamont and back. Sure, it’s got all the dusty charm of Skynyrd or the Allmans, and sounds like a nasty mix of Cracktorch and the ‘Crowes, but ultimately (and maybe it’s because of the way singer Sam James Velde howls at the blood red moon) the songs on Perdition Hymns come off as bastard inventions from an alternate universe where Danzig grows up a wayward cowboy and not Lucifer’s brawny spawn.

Listen to “Shake Your Blues” from Perdition Hymns!

Sun Gods in Exile
Black Light, White Lines
Small Stone

Christ, the last feral sound I heard coming out of Boston was probably Cocked N’ Loaded and that seems to me to be some time ago. Ok, so Sun Gods in Exile are technically from Portland, Maine, but they’ve got Boston ties (guitarist Anthony D’Agostino was in Cortez) and that good ol’ Americana rawk vibe that so many bands in Beantown had a monopoly on just a few years ago. Bands like Roadsaw, Cracktorch, Crash and Burn, and Quitter immediately come to mind, which is some goddamn ELITE company, mister. So point a finger anywhere you want at the map because this bitchin’ action will work just about anywhere.

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