The 4th Album
A mile or so past the the lake, just off the old county highway, a dusty parking lot fronts the the Desperate Deuce. With weathered wood and faded signs, it’s not much to look at, but every Saturday people pack the floor to hear the best roadhouse boogie the country has to offer. Behind the bar, grainy photos bear witness to the years. A sweat drenched George Thorogood throws back a whiskey while The Destroyers vamp behind him. Jeff Healey scowls into the darkness, guitar perched on his lap, hands blurred over the strings. Wearing sunglasses, cowboy hats, and long beards, Gibbons and Hill of ZZ Top tilt their guitars into the air while Beard grins like a maniac over the drums.
The Record Company—a stripped down three piece that focuses on the essentials: guitar, bass, and drum—would be right at home in the Desperate Deuce. Their latest album, released this month and simply titled The 4th Album, continues to develop their brand of gritty, backcountry rock that reaches all the way back to the bluesy origins of the genre. A rough, yearning voice over thick, dirty grooves with touches of slide guitar, piano, acoustics, and wailing harmonica. You hear suggestions of The Rolling Stones, a bit of the Grateful Dead, some Bad Company. Slick magazines might call it roots rock, I prefer roadhouse boogie. It’s a kind of music that feels primordial, full of raw energy reflecting a hard life lived fully.
Back at the Desperate Deuce, I order a whiskey, and the tattooed bartender gives me a tall double with a single ice cube. This isn’t the kind of place that bothers with sugar and orange peel. I lean back against the bar, sip my drink, and wait for the band to let loose their soul-thumping boogie. The place is full, expectant, but the stool next to me is open. Come on down and let the bona fide sound of The Record Company take you back home.