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Friday Full-Length: Roadsaw, Rawk n’ Roll

Posted in Bootleg Theater on June 1st, 2018 by JJ Koczan

It’s easy to argue that Roadsaw‘s third album is more relevant today than 16 years ago when it was initially released. Both moments represent a general flourishing of heavy and stoner rock(s), but to listen to Rawk n’ Roll — which originally came out in 2002 via Luna Records and which Small Stone reissued in 2007 (also maybe there was a Tortuga release in 2000?) — its tracks seem even more of this moment than that one. Roadsaw were never the “let’s make a record about weed and space” band. I’ve been fortunate enough to have seen them on multiple occasions and even share the stage once or twice, and they’re a heavy rock hailstorm: riffs that leave dents in the roof of your car. And likewise, they’ve never wanted to be the most intense band on the planet, but to listen to opener “Right on Through” or the rampaging “Blackout Driver,” the undercurrent of punk is right there to be heard. Still, with bassist Tim Catz‘s classically-influenced writing style, Ian Ross‘ heroics on rhythm and lead guitar, drummer Hari Hassin‘s bending of time on the aforementioned “Blackout Driver,” all-out thrust on “The Finger,” strutting groove on “Bad Ass Rising,” quiet timekeeping on “Your Own Private Slice of Hell” and grounding the nod of “Hoof,” which pulls the band into previously undiscovered spaces, they could hardly be tighter or more electric in their delivery. And in the current moment where it’s more accepted that not every “stoner” band actually spends their days dropping out of life with bong in hand, a sans-bullshit record like Rawk n’ Roll, were it coming out now, could only possibly be greeted as a liberator.

Like the best of Roadsaw‘s work throughout the years, Rawk n’ Roll is dynamic, masterfully composed and structured, and executed with a precision that borders on the scary. With frontman Craig Riggs — who started out on drums when they released their debut, One Million Dollars, in 1995 — so firmly in command of the material, Roadsaw‘s range was able to flourish both from album to album and within the records themselves. Consider the spring of “Disconnected” and the organ and guitar showcase instrumental “That’s Mr. Motherfucker to You,” or the hook of “Bad Ass Rising” and the thickened shuffle of “Buried Alive,” the Hammond-infused midpaced classic vibe in “Foot” and the acoustic-based “Planet Caravan”-style spacer “Burnout,” and the range of Roadsaw‘s craft is all the more the star of Rawk n’ Roll. While acting as a tight, crisp and vibrant unit, they’re able to affect a broad range of material while still keeping an central current of righteousness throughout thanks to the quality of their songwriting, Riggs‘ presence as a frontman, and the focus they demonstrate across the entire album, no matter where an individual song might head. In other words? Really good fucking band and really good fucking album. If Rawk n’ Roll hit inboxes today, the heavy rock blogosphere, myself included, would crap its collective pants, and rightly so.

I guess that’s the other point. It’s been 16 years, maybe more, since Rawk n’ Roll first came out, and it’s timeless. It’s not so much that the genre of heavy rock hasn’t moved on, but that it’s moved on to a place even more suited to Roadsaw than “their day” in the late ’90s and aughts. Their material is straightforward without a lot of the dude-for-dudes chestbeating that permeated so much of the riff-based mindset a few years ago, and their songwriting is top notch to a degree that it could and should be used as a blueprint for others to follow. “Oh, Roasaw did it this way? Cool. That’s what I’ll do.” If only. I talk about it a lot here, especially in these week-ending posts, it seems, but Roadsaw belong in that class of pre-social media heavy that, at this point, doesn’t nearly get the recognition it deserves, though part of the reasoning behind that is obvious: it’s been seven years since they last put out a record.

The shame of that is that 2011’s Roadsaw (review here) was brilliant. No loss of edge, but a more mature band doing what they did best in terms of kicking ass and taking names. Like the preceding outing 2008’s See You in Hell!, it came out on Small Stone, and its hooks were as furious as ever. They did some touring for it, but mostly members have spent the years since developing other projects. Catz and Riggs have the suited-punker troupe White Dynomite, and Riggs also went back to drumming, this time in L.A.’s Sasquatch, making them a cross-country outfit. Ross released a self-titled debut (review here) in 2014 with the Maine-based Murcielago, and then-drummer Jeremy Hemond eventually found himself out of the lineup. Roadsaw signed to Ripple Music in 2016 and of course at that point there were discussions of their next album, but nothing has yet to surface. They’ve continued all along to play regional live shows, doing a weekender last Fall with the reactivated Scissorfight.

Their latest post, from February, on thee social medias reads, “The new Roadsaw record sounds great! Can’t wait for you all to hear it,” so it’s hardly like there isn’t any hope the thing will eventually come out, it’s just a matter of when. In any case, Roadsaw are a band who deserve to be embraced by the generation of heavy listeners who’ve come up in the last half-decade-plus, and nothing’s going to make that happen like a new album. I’m keeping my fingers crossed they get there, and so should you. If you need to know why, listen to Rawk n’ Roll again from the start. It’s not a punishment; you’re only doing yourself a favor.

As always, I hope you enjoy.

Massachusetts on the brain. Because I’m leaving. Not permanently, but as of this coming week, The Patient Mrs., The Pecan and I will be setting up shop to spend most of the summer splitting time between New Jersey and Connecticut, trying to give the baby as much exposure to both sides of his family as possible, familiarize himself with his older cousins, aunts, uncle, grandmothers. It’s important, and though the house where we’re staying needs a new kitchen — tear! down! that! wall! — I’m also looking forward to getting back to my beloved Garden State and feeling a little bit more like I belong where I am, which I never really have in the five years I’ve lived on the South Shore of MA. I know good people in and around Boston. A lot of them. But while I certainly enjoy the occasional Dudesbrunch (TM) or hanging out with Johnny Arzgarth once or twice a year, I don’t exactly have much going on here. Anyway, I’ll be back around up here periodically — my therapist is here, if nothing else — so I’m not moving, but the base of operations will change until probably later in August, sometime post-Psycho Las Vegas.

This weekend we’re making an initial run. There’s some stuff to bring down — I don’t even know what as of this writing, but stuff all the same; probably baby clothes and toys, maybe my giant Batman action figure. Again, I don’t really know. But I’ve got a few hours to figure it out, so yeah. And if I forget something, well, I’ll be back in MA on Monday, so there’s plenty of opportunity to forget again.

I woke up this morning at 1:30AM. The last couple days I’ve been running a science experiment on myself wherein I forego my evening dose of anxiety medication, which I originally started taking because, well, I was losing my mind. All the time. Anyone remember January? Not me. Anyhow, they’re not the kind of thing that I really think of as a long-term solution, so yeah, I was trying to pull back a bit. Lesson learned? Maybe. I’m going to give it another couple days and if I continue not to sleep, I’ll have my answer. Should make for an interesting weekend though, regardless of the geography. Hell, I’ll probably go back to bed in a bit and read a Star Trek book until I fall asleep, which will be all of 30 seconds. It’s quarter after three as I type this, in case you’re wondering.

While I’m bitching: I also have half a cold, which is delightful if you like sore throated coughing, congestion and sinus pressure. At least I got it traveling.

Notes for next week? Yeah, I have some. With the given that amid all the back and forth over the next five days — running around Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, then back to CT, then back to NJ for what we’re thinking of as the actual start to summer on Thursday or Friday, weathepermitting — but here’s what I’ve got so far:

Mon.: Churchburn review. Holy shit that’s heavy.
Tue.: Pelagos review/album stream. Svart weirdness. Also a post about that 18-minute Sleep single.
Wed.: YOB review. That’s a day in itself.
Thu.: Orange Goblin review. Also have an interview done that will run soon.
Fri.: TBD. I’m sure something will come along.

I’m also waiting for my new camera and laptop to show up. According to FedEx, the camera was due yesterday, so I’m hoping it’s here today, and the laptop is supposed to be here early next week. I anticipate it’ll be pretty much an entire day to set that up to my specifications and preferences — no notifications for anything, as little as possible in the startup, remove intrusive and ineffective bundled “virus protection,” install VLC, PhotoShop, etc. — as Windows 10 has a mind of its own in addition to being a data mine. Also, that day will probably take place over the course of three days, because baby.

Baby. Man, I had that Pecan all day Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday. Best job ever, but definitely exhausting. The Patient Mrs. was at a social justice colloquium, because she’s fucking brilliant and that’s the kind of awesome shit she’s into, so it was me and The Pecan pretty much straight through the morning and afternoon each day until we went and picked her up on campus. Coming off the London trip, where the situation was much the same, it was no big deal — like, not something scary at this point — but he’s crawling and pulling himself up to standing, and yeah, it’s baby-chasing time for sure. He’s a good dude though. The other night I sang him to sleep with Black Sabbath’s “Heaven and Hell,” so yeah. He stays.

Oh, and yesterday we went to this baby music class thing. Like a bunch of babies and toddlers in some very nice guitar-playing lady’s basement, an entire brigade of housewives and yours truly, sitting there in my faded-as-hell Earthless t-shirt with my son, singing “Wheels of the Bus.” Life takes you to unexpected places. The kid liked it though, and it’s an introduction to music more than what he hears me playing in the house all the time and what The Patient Mrs. and I sing to him, plus socialization for an only child who clearly already enjoys engaging with other kids, so I mark it a win.

Jeebus, think this post is long enough? Time to cut my losses and get the hell out for a bit. We’ll be on the road in a few hours, I imagine — everything these days seems to depend and center around naptimes — but I’m going to try to catch up on some email this weekend and Facebook messages and all that stuff. It’s the communication factor that’s really taken a hit since The Pecan was born. I used to be really good at that stuff, but there are only so many hours in the day and it’s the actual writing that I need.

Anyway, point is I’ll be around. Please have a great and safe weekend. It’s June now, so coming on Summer here in the States. If you can see this, I hope the weather’s good where you are and you can enjoy it. That’s what I’m hoping for as well.

All the best and thanks for reading. Back Monday. Forum and Radio.

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