“King of the road says you move too slow,” on repeat, in my head, until I die. There are far worse ways to go.

Fu Manchu released King of the Road (previously discussed here) on Feb. 15. 2000. It was their third full-length to be issued via Mammoth Records behind 1997’s The Action is Go (discussed here) and 1996’s In Search Of… (discussed here), and with those it forms a holy trinity of sorts among longtime fans. It was the second LP to have been made with the lineup of Scott Hill (guitar/vocals), Bob Balch (guitar), Brad Davis (bass) and Brant Bjork (drums), and it is further distinguished by the production of Joe Barresi, who recorded the band at Studio Monkey Studios in Palm Desert, California.

It is even further distinguished by its songs, which are just about unstoppable across the 11 tracks and 45 minutes — prime for the then-already-declining CD era, but also still able to fit on a single 12″ — and make for one of the strongest A sides in any branch of heavy rock and roll from any generation you’d like to put it up against. That succession of tracks, with “Hell on Wheels” opening, “Over the Edge,” “Boogie Van,” “King of the Road” and “No Dice” closing with the ride-that-groove-into-the-fade “Blue Tile Fever” plays out almost like a concept record about custom van culture, both heralding the grainy still photos of the ’70s with shag carpet and plush radness and the more gentrified generational interpretation thereof in #vanlife, which became the Adventurous Millennial™ answer to never being able to afford a home.

The kick-on shove of “Grasschopper,” the nod of “Weird Beard,” “Breathing Fire,” which is a bit reminiscent of their earlier, shreddier output, the slowdown roll in “Hotdoggin'” and the concluding cover of Devo‘s “Freedom of Choice” do nothing to make King of the Road less of a classic. Admittedly, the second half of the record doesn’t quite hit the listener over the head with hooks the way side A frontloads singles, but they flesh out the album in important ways, and you have to understand, they’re still catchy as hell. Fu Manchu went into their first LP, 1994’s No One Rides for Free (discussed here), a ragtag bunch of punks finding their footing in a new sound, and every subsequent outing to this point refined their processes. The songwriting got tighter. The tones got fuzzier. The groove got funkier. As this lineup solidified, it all seemed to click into place and the sonic and aesthetic identities of the band were hammered out. Obviously touring plays a huge role in this — it’s where that work is really done and a band discovers who they are, provided they survive — but each album serves as a landmark along the way, and few landmarks could hope to capture a well hit stride like King of the Road. Even coming off In Search Of… and The Action is Go — two of ’90s-era heavy rock’s most essential offerings — the songs on King of the Road are at another level.

And that’s really the story of the album: the songs. Everybody’s got their favorite records and Fu Manchu have both been around long enough and been widely enough heard that genuine fans will inevitably align to specific eras in their discography, but I don’t know how you hear “Boogie Van” and don’t get down. These are songs that go beyond infectious, beyond earworm. They are sharply delivered, efficiently structured, nigh on perfect even in their imperfections, identifiable to the band’s core sound and still distinct from the rest of their work. Joe Barresi‘s recording sets a balance in the mix that never removes the riff, but compresses the guitars and pushes them forward, so the fuzz comes through next to Hill‘s vocals, which make every chorus ready for an audience to sing along. I don’t know if Fu Manchu were writing for the stage at this point, but they sure sound like it, and King of the Road speaks to the listener from a more confident, more established place than either of the two aforementioned landmarks that preceded it. I’m not going to pick a favorite, but King of the Road is the Fu Manchu record I return to most, and the songs are why.

Across its span, the band harness such a specifically West Coast kind of cool. I don’t know if a record like King of the Road could have been written from a place that didn’t have nice weather all the time. It is sun-coated, shorts-wearing, outside. As much as it’s riding around in a van, those windows are down to let the wind in — also there’s no AC, because that’s how those coast-to-coast Chevys maintain that musty ’70s odor amid the wood paneling — it’s also skating, surfing, moving. It’s not that this is a radical departure from what Fu Manchu were otherwise doing at the time. In part it emphasizes the effect a given producer could have on their sound, which has been a consistent element in bringing variety to their catalog all along and will continue to be from here, but also it’s just that they were getting better at the thing they deemed theirs through practice.

It had been 10 years already since Fu Manchu‘s 1990 self-titled EP (discussed here), and the band had been through multiple changes along the way between losing its original rhythm section of Mark Abshire and Ruben Romano and saying goodbye to guitarist Eddie Glass. The Hill/Balch/Davis/Bjork incarnation may have peaked here, however, and for that alone it stands among their most pivotal full-lengths. They — and I do think it was Hill largely driving the band stylistically as the remaining founder and conjuror of riffs, but the record stands testament to the fact that everyone’s contributions to the material made it what it is — knew what they wanted and knew how to make it happen, and then they did, and the swagger of “No Dice,” or “Boogie Van,” or “Hotdoggin'” or “Weird Beard” is all the more palpable for that.

As always, I hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading

—

I don’t have a ton to say. Cool week, bro. Neat to see an active DOJ cover up bigger than Watergate because lives were ended revealed and zero consequences. Really lets you know where we’re at. In incompetent-autocracy hell, in case you were wondering.

The Patient Mrs.’ mother is traveling and has left her dog with us for two weeks. I think I mentioned this last week. Well, we’re about halfway through this puppysitting now and though she hasn’t peed on the floor in four or five days, when she goes I won’t miss getting up at 5AM to take her out, give her breakfast, then take her out again, usually for a walk around the block. This morning there was someone else out there. It wasn’t even light yet. Fuck that was awkward. Are you gonna murder me? No? Well I’m not gonna murder you either. We’re just walking our dogs. Okay. I’m going to proceed now. Thanks. I actually said “have a good day.” I’m too weird to exist so I guess it’s a good thing that mostly I don’t.

Had a lovely lunch yesterday with a friend from college and after whom I’d not seen in at least a decade. The Patient Mrs. and I went, which was cool beause I really shouldn’t be on my own in public at this point, and me trying to hold a conversation is the surest way everybody gets back to work before lucnhbreak is over. But it was nice.

I had three Hungarian classes this week and a bunch of homework between them, and didn’t have time to play Zelda, so no update for that. I’m still in The Minish Cap. I’ve got a bunch more homework (and a teszt) for next week to do over the weekend, so yeah. I’m not in a rush anyhow, I guess. It’ll still be there.

Have a great and safe weekend. Hydrate. Fuck the fascist protectors of sexual predators, corrupt traitors and all the rest of the pieces of shit who make everything cost too much and are killing the world for sport. Hang pedophiles and war criminals. Abolish Ice. End genocide. And when you’re done with that, I guess maybe we’ll all go grab a coffee or something. I’ll be over here, doing jack shit and thinking about riffs in the meantime. What privilege?

FRM.

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As California as you might ever be, will you ever be as California as Fu Manchu‘s King of the Road? One suspects not. In 1999, while people were flitting about in a tizzy over whether or not planes would drop out of the sky when computers changed millennia, the kings of San Clemente were writing and recording the songs that would become their sixth album and a singularly righteous statement of aesthetic. This is the real surf rock. A monster Jeff Spicoli of a record that’s ace in its hooks from opener “Hell on Wheels” down through “Weird Beard” and “Hotdoggin'” ahead of the closing Devo cover “Freedom of Choice,” which, yes, is also catchy as hell.

There is a legion among Fu Manchu‘s fanbase who will accept no answer other than 1996’s In Search Of… when it comes to picking the band’s best album. To the point that I’m a little gunshy about calling this my favorite Fu Manchu LP, though it is. Duke it out however you want. 20 years after the fact, and on the occasion of what should’ve been a 30th anniversary victory lap throughout 2020 for the band, I’m willing to put 2000’s King of the Road out there as their most influential work. There are still dudes hearing “Over the Edge” and immediately starting bands. Two decades have passed, and even a barn-burner like “Grasschopper” still sounds mellow and easy. Less memorable than some of the other classics, even “Breathing Fire” — which if it wasn’t actually written that way was certainly positioned where CD-era filler would’ve gone to put the record over the 45-minute mark; it’s 46 — kills when you actually put it on.

Counting 1999’s Godzilla’s (Eatin’ Dust) EP compilation LP on Man’s Ruin, Fu Manchu put out four albums with the lineup of guitarist/vocalist Scott Hill, bassist Brad Davis, guitarist Bob Balch and drummer Brant Bjork, picking up the latter following the breakup of Kyuss and bringing him and Balch on board prior to 1997’s The Action is Go (discussed here) in place of Eddie Glass, who of course would go on to start Nebula with fellow-Fu-alumni Mark Abshire (bass on the first two albums) and Ruben Romano (drums on the first four). King of the Road has the distinction of being sandwiched between the Godzilla’s (Eatin’ Dust) CD and 2001’s California Crossing, but any way you look at it, the band was on a run that I don’t think any heavy rock band of the era could hope to match. Neither Sleep nor Acid King were as prolific or as punk-rooted. Kyuss didn’t put out that many records. Even Clutch weren’t as productive. The Melvins maybe, but if you’re going to sit there and argue Melvins songs stand up to Fu Manchu songs, it’s going to be a short conversation. Because they don’t. There’s a reason that no matter how many bands they have inspired and continue to inspire, there’s only one Fu Manchu.

“Hell on Wheels” fades in its riff like motors in the distance. “Over the Edge” pushes on-the-beat uptempo fuzz starts and stops and a signature chorus ahead of “Boogie Van,” which at this point just reads like an aesthetic blueprint for how to be stoner rock. I still get records with vans on the cover, if not weekly, then certainly more than once a month. The title-track and “No Dice” follow in succession, letting the long-hold wah kick in on “Blue Tile Fever” for a grittier, almost winding feel on a straight-ahead chug worthy of the cowbell that offsets it. The centerpiece of the original disc, “Blue Tile Fever” also caps the first platter of the 2LP version of King of the Road that Fu Manchu released on their own At the Dojo imprint in 2015, and thinking about it as a closer makes sense with its long fade and the way “Grasschopper” picks up the pace again, mirroring the energy with which “Hell on Wheels” (it’s no big deal, but yeah, it is) starts off the album as a whole. Learn something new all the time.

But as much as the first half of King of the Road is utterly unfuckwithable, the second answers right back. “Grasschopper” careens into the roll-rock storytelling of “Weird Beard,” which are three and a half of the best minutes you’ll spend on just about any day, while “Breathing Fire”‘s speedier thrust dirties up the fuzz a bit but is all about velocity, which is a great setup for “Hotdoggin’,” a song which reminds that this was the era in which Brant Bjork also started his solo career with 1999’s Jalamanta (reissure review here; discussed here; also here), the vision of laid back mellow-heavy that pervades the penultimate cut on King of the Road having the same kind of open-vibe start-stop funk foundation — and Davis‘ bassline; damn — as would become a hallmark of Bjork‘s work on his own. It’s a different close from “Blue Tile Fever,” but follows the pattern of being a little longer than the songs before it, and of course there’s “Freedom of Choice” as a kind of thanks-for-coming bonus inclusion.

Fu Manchu covers are a special kind of joy all on their own, and “Freedom of Choice” is a right-on pick, ending King of the Road with a groove and a hook that could’ve just as easily come from the band themselves as from Devo. As with many of the songs they’ve taken on over the years, from Blue Öyster Cult and Black Flag to The Cars to the version of The Doobie Brothers‘ “Takin’ it to the Streets” that appeared on their 2020 EP, Fu30, Pt?.?1 — part two of which was doubtless interrupted by canceled tour plans — their taste and the sense of fun they bring to whatever they’ve Fu‘ed up over time has always been impeccable.

Don’t get me wrong, I frickin’ love any number of Fu Manchu albums. I’m not gonna say a bad word about them, even the commonly-slagged Start the Machine, which’ll close out a week around here sooner or later I’m sure, is catchy as hell. But King of the Road is a standout even among the golly-that’s-sumpin’-special batch that is their entire discography, and as always, I hope you enjoy this revisit.

Thanks for reading.

—

Xmas morning, and yeah, I do consider writing about the Fu a present to myself. It’s just past 6AM now, and The Pecan has started to stir. I got up at 4:15. I’ve been doing the 4AM thing all week to work on the Quarterly Review, which has only sucked because he was up before 6 three days this week, thereby torpedoing my ability to get more done. Also since preschool isn’t happening, it’s required I take work time from The Patient Mrs. — who has very diplomatically not told me to fuck myself for doing a Quarterly Review the week of Xmas — which I am generally loath to do if I can avoid it.

It’s been a rough week. It’s been a rough couple months. Rough year? I don’t know. Virtual preschool. Come on. And nothing until Jan. 4 except sitting around and thinking about plague numbers. What the hell. No break from it. My brain. Pills.

We’re going north today, I think, to Connecticut to see The Patient Mrs.’ family. I’m not really pro-out of state travel at this point, but screw it. The only place I’ve been in the last five days that had any people whatsoever was Shop-Rite on Wednesday, which was legitimately crowded, but I haven’t started to show symptoms so I’m guessing I’ve once again emerged from a packed produce department covid-free. Unless you count fatigue as a symptom, which has become a running gag with my daddy-to-a-toddler self. I honestly don’t care anymore. I’m tired of it. Set my lungs on fire. Kill my ass. At least then I won’t be around to listen to myself complain about nothing or feel useless.

In any case, I can’t honestly say if there were three bands — or two, or one — playing Saint Vitus Bar tomorrow night I wouldn’t throw caution to the wind and go, so I’m not about to put up an argument against going to see family on what to most people is a special day even if I don’t like the holidays.

Yeah, The Pecan’s up. I can see on the monitor (app on my phone) he just got out of bed and beaned himself walking into the little cubby cut into the wall of his room. Wham. It’s still dark and he’s woozy when he first gets up. Won’t stop him. Nothing does. Kid doesn’t feel pain.

But I’d better go.

New Gimme Show today at 5PM, and special thanks in advance if you share part of your holiday with me by listening. It’s a good one, so I at least have made it hopefully worth your while.

And the Quarterly Review picks up on Monday. That’ll go Monday and Tuesday, then I’m taking Wednesday (and maybe Thursday) to work on my year-end list, then that’ll be up before the end of the week, then the poll results next Saturday and life returns to normal after that. Ha.

Great and safe weekend. If you’re celebrating, don’t be stupid. Don’t forget to hydrate. So important.

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