Incontrovertible proof that a record can be of its era, ahead of its time, and born too late. Boston’s Roadsaw released their debut album One Million Dollars (previously discussed here) — also shown as $1,000,000 on the CD — through Curve of the Earth Records in 1995. That puts it on the very tail end of when grunge was happening across the country in Seattle, and certainly that influence can be felt in some of its songs, a percussion-laced bop jam like that in “Fell Off the Earth” comes through these 27 years later, in no small part because of the production, as a pre-turn-of-the-century sound. Yet, that same sound is both influenced by classic heavy rock and something that countless bands are still trying to capture in their own work, so yes, a fair bit of temporal applicability from Roadsaw, who rightfully seem less concerned with the lasting nature of their work on the record itself than they do with laying it all out at the very beginning. “Gotta Go” tells the tale. They had to move.

For the release, Roadsaw was bassist/vocalist Tim Catz, drummer/vocalist Craig Riggs, and guitarists Darryl Shepard and Steve Malone, both of whom also contributed vocals to a lesser degree. The album is 10 tracks/37 minutes and all the more ahead of its time in its vinyl-ready construction; each of its halves ending with their respective side’s longest song in “Fancy Pants” (5:07) and “Star Cock” (5:15). Stoner rock, as it was, hadn’t really taken shape yet, but the looseness of the swing in the aforementioned “Fell Off the Earth” and the melodic and heavy kick into the chorus of the subsequent “Non-Phenomenal” answer that call from the desert with an inscrutably Bostonian edge of punk, met with an admirably cynical perspective on “Sickest Ride,” “Fancy Pants” and the later, organ-laced “Handed You Your Ass,” Riggs and Catz trading lead vocal parts with added flourish from Shepard along the way. “When they handed you your ass,” with Dave Alexander‘s keys playing off the central riff? Right on.

Each side — and mind you, I don’t think the album ever actually had an LP release; looking your way, Ripple Music; I’m calling my shot in cash-grab-green limited pressing, 180g vinyl — opens with a rager in “Gotta Go” and “Rotted Out,” but even those tracks groove, and it’s the band’s ability to do that as well as to shift effectively between singers that pulls the listener in. There’s less of a focus on low end than one finds in modern heavy — “Random” notwithstanding — but as punkers tipped off by the classic blues vibes of the early ’70s, even a cut like the willfully weirdo “Theme From ‘Hassle'” makes sense, let alone the rolling nods of “Sickest Ride” and “Fancy Pants,” which feel like they’re fighting it out at the end of side A for who’s got the stronger hook while the start-stop riff of the latter invites the context that 1995 as the same year Clutch put out their self-titled album and only one year after Fu Manchu released No One Rides for Free. Kyuss were releasing …And the Circus Leaves Town around the same time. As generational cohorts go, Roadsaw could do far worse.

But to hear the actual record, the actual songs, nobody here is thinking about forging new ground stylistically, helping to set the foundation for a regional heavy rock scene that continues to thrive nearly three decades after the fact, or anything like that. As with the best of rock and roll new, old or otherwise, these are kids having fun. I don’t think you write a song called “Star Cock,” let alone populate it with that Nirvana-style verse, if you’re gearing up to change the universe. But the melody in the chorus there and the vocal arrangement, as in “Non-Phenomenal” earlier, offer hints of the kind of ground that Roadsaw would cover in the years to come. It’s there in the songwriting. I’ve been fortunate enough to see Roadsaw in multiple incarnations on different continents, and they’ve always been a righteous stage act, but they’ve never just had to rely on that to make an impression — their studio work stands up, and that’s because of the level of craft in what they do, born of their influence in traditional rock structures, maybe informed at the time by what was happening on FM radio, but interpreted through their own impulses.

Hooks abound throughout One Million Dollars, and are not at all relegated to those noted in “Sickest Ride” and “Fancy Pants,” dead-on as those may be. Slowing down after “Gotta Go,” the swapped lines and hard wah of “Fell Off the Earth” make an impression of their own that immediately branches out while holding to a chorus that sets up the more dramatic “Non-Phenomenal,” and though “Rotted Out” and “Random” are definitely B-sides in the even-then-longstanding tradition thereof, they effectively add to the aesthetic pastiche of the album as a whole, and the second half of One Million Dollars wants nothing for catchy, with “Handed You Your Ass” and “Star Cock” at the end. The latter was going to be memorable one way or the other, I suppose.

The narrative of Roadsaw‘s history is broader than can be recounted here in terms of their touring years, their effect on heavy rock in and out of their hometown, and so on, but their records are essential listening and what seemed to be a fadeout ending after 2011’s self-titled (review here) on Small Stone Records, with whom they were long aligned, was rewritten with the release of Tinnitus the Night (review here) on Ripple in 2019. Whether that’s the end or not, who the hell knows, but one thing’s for certain: Their debut album, decades after the fact, remains a good fucking time. Totally unpretentious, not at all at risk of taking itself too seriously, but packing a killer punch every step of the way from the individual performances to the songwriting and the flow of the record as a whole. “What kind of voodoo is that?” It’s Roadsaw‘s kind.

As always, I hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading.

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This weekend is The Patient Mrs.’ birthday. I’ve got chicken in the Crock Pot for tonight and family booked to come from both up the hill (that’s my mother, sister, her husband and their two kids), next town over (cousin) and from CT (her mother, sister, and her two kids) over the course of the next two days. Gonna be a banger, I think. Everyone will be exhausted by Sunday, which is probably how we were going to end up one way or the other. At least this way I will have vacuumed.

I got her a small desk, if you’re wondering. Nothing huge. We had a big ol’ office desk in Massachusetts when we lived there that we had to get rid of when we moved back to NJ because there was just no room in the house, and she’s been working on a card table for the entire pandemic stretch of time of the last two years — a temporary setup that just morphed into permanence — so I thought maybe it was time she had something a little sturdier. Plus it has drawers, which I have no doubt will be put to good use and will become a game once The Pecan realizes he can pull everything out of them and get a response. “Dude, really?” is a big one around here these days.

Anyway, she seems to like the desk so far, which is the idea.

I had a physical yesterday. I’ve put on weight, which I knew already going into it. At 6’1″, I weigh 227 pounds. I was 152 at my lowest, when I was actively bulimic. Oh how I miss those days. Not really, but sort of. All it took was a nervous breakdown. Surely I have another of those in me, right? Give it a few years. 185-200 is healthy in my head, so I’m a ways off in any case.

I was trying to exercise, go for runs around the block, quick little things, but I kind of fell off that wagon this week. I come and go. I don’t know. Body shit is really complicated for me. I won’t claim to understand the trans experience at all, but feeling like you’re a different person than who you are physically? Yeah, that I know pretty well. I’m getting off track and I don’t really want to talk about this. Being a person is hard.

Last week I didn’t get to properly close out. If you were waiting for it (you weren’t), sorry about that. There was something urgent at the time, I can’t even remember now, but yeah. My time was otherwise directed. Today could easily have been the same deal. Always lots of news on Fridays because it’s release day — the Author & Punisher is out today; my preorder came yesterday with a shirt that should be awesome once it shrinks in the wash — and I do my best to keep up. But, that aside, I wrote four long, album-cover-first reviews this week, and that felt awesome. That Lark’s Tongue record with the video premiere that went up today is so good. I like the label’s writeup for it even better than mine, but I tried to at least do it some justice.

There’s more stuff I need to put together for today as well as Monday, so I’m gonna punch out. I hope you have a great and safe weekend, as ever. Have fun, hydrate, don’t let the bastards get you down and all that.

New much up at Made in Brooklyn: http://mibk.bigcartel.com/products. Design is by Ken Wohlrob from End of Hope and late of Eternal Black. Something a little different from the usual space-themed fare. Thanks if you check it out and of course if you make a purchase. All proceeds go either to Bandcamp or my camera-lens-saving fund.

FRM.

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