Dixie Witch
Let It Roll
Small Stone

This album, Dixie Witch’s fourth, with its gold chrome letters on crushed black leather, is the simplest, most uncomplicated, and appropriately textured statement the band could make concerning their return after a five year absence. As if anticipating the inevitable question, ‘Well, what are you going to do now?’ they’ve just gone and shrugged and said, ‘Let it roll, motherfucker!’ With all due respect to the Small Stone bands who’ve already released albums this year, and many condolences to the ones yet to come, this here is the Olympic pinnacle, and the trio of long-toothed Texan troublemakers have stormed Zeus’ Godly realm and confiscated his throne. Armed with an arsenal of lightning bolts and cloaked in the kind of invincibility you can only get from a mountain high, Trinidad Leal, Curt “CC” Christenson, and new guitarist Josh “JT” Todd Smith now seem to hold dominion over all things ROCK; their Southern stoner sound, once drenched in the earthly confines of mud and fuzz, has found a magical, heavenly edge. It’s still every bit the beast Smoke & Mirrors is, but they’ve elevated the power and melody to rocket-fueled levels (and left out the ballads), making Let It Roll as much a supreme n’ sizzling cock rock record as it is a boogie n’ blues truck stop tango drenched in AC/DC, Lynyrd Skynyrd, ZZ Top, and Alabama Thunderpussy influences. I suppose Let It Roll has the potential to piss off anyone not enamored with a polished production, but if deliciously dirty dynamics and majestic riffs are your bag, you’re in for one hell of a treat.

Listen to “Let It Roll” from Let It Roll!

Gentlemans Pistols
At Her Majesty’s Pleasure
Rise Above

The Gentlemans Pistols are stone cold rollers steeped thigh-high in the foggy bluster of ’72′s hullabaloo who, now four years removed from their self-titled full-length debut, have forged a grin-and-lick-it campaign aimed at monopolizing the gold-dusted, classic rock racket. This enterprise, known simply as At Her Majesty’s Request, is uproariously glorious, and you don’t so much as listen to it as you do walk into its dark and musty den and stare at all the trophy riffs mounted on the wall like 10 point bucks. The UK band’s powerful, hook-filled bombast has picked up a certain amount of intensity in the last few years, which is no doubt due to the addition of guitarist Bill Steer (of Carcass, Napalm Death, and Firebird fame), who joined the group in 2009 and has brought a ferocious emphasis to the Gentlemans’ twin guitar attack (bolstered on the other side by vocalist/guitarist James Atkinson), the likes of which I haven’t heard since I last listened to Pride Tiger or Tricky Woo. What I’m getting at here is that they slay it, plain and simple, and despite the fact that they leave behind a whole pile of incriminating evidence tying them to a conspiracy involving Cactus, Deep Purple, Captain Beyond, Thin Lizzy, and BANG (and, most certainly, booze, drugs, women, and Satan), they’re too good to get caught, and live to rock and flaunt the gaoler all night long.

Listen to “I Wouldn’t Let You” from At Her Majesty’s Pleasure!

What was it I said a little while ago? Nothing good ever happens in the snow? Yeah, I think that was it, and here’s more proof: Dead Snow (or Død snø in its native Norwegian). Now, if you’re like me and felt a little let down by Inglourious Basterds and are jonesing for more satisfactory Nazi killing action, then you should think about checking out Dead Snow because as an added bonus, the Nazis in this movie are also zombies. And there’s A LOT more blood and guts. There had to be, really, because this movie is a wash otherwise. But looking for substance in a low-budget horror/black comedy flick is like ordering a salad at a fast food joint, isn’t it? You really only watch a movie like Dead Snow precisely because it’s gonna pile the blood and guts up higher than a ski hill and it responsibly chooses camp over plot.

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