Josiah
Procession
Elektrohasch

As you might be able to glean from the album’s title and simple black cover, this is Josiah’s swan song, and as such it kicks off with the title track, a real slow cooker with a dopey swagger, like they’re taking that last, glorious walk out of the Holy Halls of Smoke into the fading, waiting horizon. Of course, that’s exactly what the UK trio is doing after 10 years of dedicated stoner rock service, but not intent to linger like a bunch of lazy losers, they punch it hard on “Broken Doll” and “Thirteen Scene” with the kind of groove n’ roll that ought to leave a deep, lasting impression, like getting punched in the chest by a sasquatch. Then it’s a return to theme with the next two songs, “Dying Day” and “Dead Forever,” and it really hits home that these mere mortal men are Gods when it comes to laying down boogie-fried, witchy, 70s riffs, and it sure is a shame it has to stop. They wrap up the rest of the album with a handful of killer live tracks recorded in Sweden in ’07, including “Looking at the Mountain,” “Time to Kill,” “Silas Brainchild,” “I Can’t Seem to Find It” (all from 2007′s No Time), and “Malpaso” (from 2000′s Out of the First Rays and 2002′s Josiah). Singer/guitarist Mat Bethancourt will no doubt continue on with Cherry Choke and Kings of Frog Island, and I can only believe that bassist/vocalist Sie Beasley and drummer Keith Beacom will turn out all right too, if they haven’t already. Play this one loud, brothers and sisters. So long, Josiah.

Listen to “Dying Day” from Procession!

Danko Jones
Below the Belt
Aquarius Records

It’s gonna be awfully hard to avoid peppering this review with all the pugilistic puns that are bouncing around in my bearded brain like blind bats, what with the album title and the fact that Danko Jones comes screaming out of the corner in this particular fight with – if you can believe it – more attitude than ever before, spittin’ and snarlin’ about what has become his rock n’ roll raison d’être: broads, break-ups, bad thoughts, and bullish bravado. So I’ll just go with it because it’s as if there’s a whole new law that needs layin’ down, man, and the only person that’s got balls big enough to do it is ol’ Mr. Jones himself (with the help of misters Calabrese and Cornelius, naturally). He’s the world heavyweight champion, see, and while there’s been plenty of times he’s floated like a butterfly, he’s at his best when he stings like a bee. And brother, the hive is buzzing like a blown amp and somebody needs to pay.

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Barn Burner
Bangers
Metal Blade

Barn Burner, you raggedy sons-of-bitches! Are you fucking kidding me? Just when I thought Montreal’s world-eating rock n’ roll machine couldn’t possibly get any meaner, you come bustin’ out of a mile-high pile of crushed PBR cans in some wood-paneled den in your flannel and denim like you’re the goddamn Kings of the Rotten, set my beard on fire, and then piss on the flames. Now the smoke is burnin’ my eyes and I smell like a wino in a litter box, but I’ll be damned if I’m not the happiest rat crawlin’ in the rock n’ roll gutter. I mean, this album right here is the reason I do what I do, that’s for damn sure. It breaks my beard, boy-o.

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