J-Roddy Walston and the Business have been building a rabid following around the Northeast music scene and are best known for their orgasmic concert performances which leave you in a blissful magical state as the band burns down the house like few others can only dream of. Their just released self-titled debut album on Vagrant Records conjures up the same feeling of ecstasy as the band welcomes you into the world's largest piano bar. To their credit, as buzz worthy as their live shows are, they handle the dual responsibilities of stage and studio stridently; this self-titled record is a testament to the rebellious spirit of rock n' roll. Numerous comparisons have been thrown out at the group (most notably a barn-storming Jerry Lee Lewis) but I feel it's a disservice to their talent which needs to be heard and seen to be believed. These aren't mere mortals attempting to find their way to success, but a group who despite their youth hurdles the listener into the middle of a swirling hurricane with their exuberant bar-dancing jaunty anthems. The closest comparison I can conjure up is to imagine if Jerry Lee Lewis had collaborated with David Bowie on Hunky Dory, "Changes" would be a scorching wailing rocker with a vocal that teeters between damnation and deliverance. Simple comforts and cheap thrills are abounding on "Don't Break the Needle" which immediately brings out the spunk, sass and spiritual splendor of the album. Right from the opening notes, the piano keys fly off the piano, cymbals crash, vocals screech in a hot-blooded performance that is blatantly boisterous. "Pigs and Pearls" has a filthy groove with some svelte backing vocals and some sweet slide acoustic guitar. The swelling of chants and vocals in the back against a high-spirited back drop of instruments on "Full Growing Man" surprised me. I reached out to a connection of the band to ask who the chanting female vocalists were in the background only to be told there are none; it's the glorious combustion of Gordon, Colmus, Davis and Walston delivering a wailing echo of home-grown rock. "Used to Did" features a bludgeoning vocal where Walston gleefully spits out the words against a wall of sound seeping desperation. "Brave Man's Death" led by a melancholy organ finds the band intertwining their grooves into an amplification that's bright and breezy with resolute and resilient lyrics.
The album's second side takes hold with "Don't Get Old" with an ardent backbeat by Colmus that verge on explosive while Walston's vocal brings the song to a determined howling climax. Roddy's vocals are a supple instrument as integral to the band as his piano. The reedy warmth of his voice and the rhythmic phrasing he uses is rare in rock as he is able to inflict explicit emotions with certain notes. He doesn't merely sing, he uses his voice as an instrument to evoke emotions and manipulate you to grow closer to the melodies. "I Don't Want To Hear It" features a chorus that is downright shimmering with an unyielding arrangement built on brawn that solidifies the song. Growing up in a religious household, Walston found himself torn between God and rock n' roll and to this day, despite taking the road less traveled, he still speaks to that higher power seeking that solace we all need. "Use Your Language" may be drenched in bluesy-chords, but don't let the disorderly noise blind you, it's a prayer in disguise. For most of the record, the band is unleashed, ready to roar and determined to make their presence known. At ten songs, it's lean and doesn't overstay its welcome with added filler. It wheezes past you allowing you to digest it fully. In a swift swing, they clutch your senses and assault them with ten effervescent garage rock anthems. The inconspicuous aura adds to the album's magnetism, but make no mistake, the respective instruments feel like the sum of something much larger and presented in a sturdy but unadorned mix. If you love your rock n' roll primordial, and downright dirty, this record is for you.
J-Roddy Walston and the Business deliver a rock n' roll revival that will bring you salvation. There's a warm communal feeling to the proceedings. It feels like a family jam on back porches where beer flows and the grill is always hot. Guitarist Billy Gordan provides skuzzy riffage while drummer Steve Colmus and bassist Logan Davis fasten the core of the music so it never swerves off-course. It would be uncomplicated to use the word "virtuosity" but it wouldn't do all four of them justice. Each cut is infused with supple sincerity allowing the indisputable nature of the material to gleam. This extends beyond mere musical talent but a forging desire to comprehend the vernacular of each individual member which materializes into a thundering and fierce yowls which are tuneful. This music and band is too rich, too genuine and too real to be denied. Some acts wear their influences on their sleeves to their detriment, but J-Roddy Walston and the Business embrace their influences while their hearts are on their sleeves.
Anthony Kuzminski is a Chicago based writer and Special Features Editor for the antiMusic Network. His daily writings can be read at The Screen Door. He can be contacted at thescreendoor AT gmail DOT com and can be followed on Twitter
