Outta the gate I gotta say writin' about a release called 'Full House Head' & failin to mention J Geils Band is harder than findin' a white bean in a black cat's ass. Not that I got anything against 'em, hell, the ex-Mr. Faye Dunaway had that ass whoopin' comin' from me in Louisville back 'round 75. And like I told Seth Justman that night too "I got a Hotline for ya, shorty; my fist up side your head". Think It Over indeed, my little Beantown bud.
And while we's is on the...
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Outta the gate I gotta say writin' about a release called 'Full House Head' & failin to mention J Geils Band is harder than findin' a white bean in a black cat's ass. Not that I got anything against 'em, hell, the ex-Mr. Faye Dunaway had that ass whoopin' comin' from me in Louisville back 'round 75. And like I told Seth Justman that night too "I got a Hotline for ya, shorty; my fist up side your head". Think It Over indeed, my little Beantown bud.
And while we's is on the subject of a thumpin', how about this new knockout from Endless Boogie what's called 'Full House Head'? It's done got me all riled up! Over the course of more than a decade long career I've watched this bunch morph from mutant hominid bar choogle to luxuriating' in fissions that split open a portal what connected Coloured Balls & Velvet Underground to now redefinin' what Rock IS in the 2nd decade of the 21st Century. The production's spiffier, the rhythm's cagier, the solo's sharper & the singin, witchier. It's comfort y'all, the comfort to rock it both languorously & intricately. This zone is short of pretense & long in talent. Given the breadth of the excellence what's passed through afore, you might spin this & hear everything from Patto note moaners & Groundhogs riffage, to Seeds-like chatter or even goddamn 'Exile era Stones texturalization. But it ain't none of that, cause it can't be. The future is always steeped in the past & originality is invested in those who don't dial it in. And Endless Boogie most certainly walk it like they rock it. This may be called ’Full House Head', but you can beat me with a corncob harmonica & call me Magic Dick if the contents therein ain't that of a Royal Flush Jam.
And I should know, because I have ears.
Roland Woodbe,
Professional Listener
Domestic
