THE LAD CLASSIC
Thunder / Lightning
Overview:
Okay, let's see here... we've got 5 solid rock n' roll diddies electrified for every part of your body. Then it's followed by the same 5 songs transformed into some acoustic numbers grooved out to please the conscious. But wait - there's more! A handful of bonus tracks with commentary over top of the previously played acoustic tracks. This is less of a double EP, as it acts more like a DVD. Honestly, I haven't heard anyone do this before.
The electric EP (Thunder) is grinding, no-holds-barred rock n' roll. Classic new rock. It's not cheesey, it's not pretending to be anyone else, it's just pure rock. The rhythmic foundations of Josiah Whitney on drums and Mark Rynkun on bass hold it tight like Zeppelin's Bonham/Jones duo on the perfectly picked opening song "Cadillac Jack" and the swaggerful "Another One" . Self-described "busy guitarist" Ben Healey keeps complicated licks in "Hit Me" and "London Bridge" fluid and virtuosic, while adding proper powerful power chords to powerify the powerness of the powering songs. Singer Paul Stevens summons his inner-Cornell to climb to the highest note possible when the time... is.... just.... right. His voice takes off from base camp and feels like it will go so high you'll need to block your eyes from the sun's glare. The fifth track is what aids in the band's breadth development. "Blow Out" slows the album's pace down for the listener to take a moment to exhale. Healey's notes are further apart; Whitney's beats are the perfect BPM for head-nodding; Rynkun's bass is subtle but nestled into the mix; and Stevens' lyrics are fit for whispering, then BAM - the chorus - more contrast as the curtains raise for the finale. The lad's get into "that zone" of performance where it shouldn't end and needs to stagger on and on and on while paying homage to the "less is more" philosphy. Thicker guitars and heavier drums ring out much like a marching giant. The true size of a giant isn't how big it is, but how far his steps echo out.
Smells like:
Old whiskey burning on an old wooden bar from an extinct tree.
Tastes like:
Sautéed grizzly bear seared to perfection with onion rings and cigars. No filler - fuck salad.
Feels like:
Blindfolded chiropractic adjustment with extra-large leathered hands.
Looks like:
Kowalski's 1970 Challenger, but instead of driving into a barricade - driving into Jaws.
This group of chivalrous gentlemen are found here in internetland:
Okay, let's see here... we've got 5 solid rock n' roll diddies electrified for every part of your body. Then it's followed by the same 5 songs transformed into some acoustic numbers grooved out to please the conscious. But wait - there's more! A handful of bonus tracks with commentary over top of the previously played acoustic tracks. This is less of a double EP, as it acts more like a DVD. Honestly, I haven't heard anyone do this before.
The electric EP (Thunder) is grinding, no-holds-barred rock n' roll. Classic new rock. It's not cheesey, it's not pretending to be anyone else, it's just pure rock. The rhythmic foundations of Josiah Whitney on drums and Mark Rynkun on bass hold it tight like Zeppelin's Bonham/Jones duo on the perfectly picked opening song "Cadillac Jack" and the swaggerful "Another One" . Self-described "busy guitarist" Ben Healey keeps complicated licks in "Hit Me" and "London Bridge" fluid and virtuosic, while adding proper powerful power chords to powerify the powerness of the powering songs. Singer Paul Stevens summons his inner-Cornell to climb to the highest note possible when the time... is.... just.... right. His voice takes off from base camp and feels like it will go so high you'll need to block your eyes from the sun's glare. The fifth track is what aids in the band's breadth development. "Blow Out" slows the album's pace down for the listener to take a moment to exhale. Healey's notes are further apart; Whitney's beats are the perfect BPM for head-nodding; Rynkun's bass is subtle but nestled into the mix; and Stevens' lyrics are fit for whispering, then BAM - the chorus - more contrast as the curtains raise for the finale. The lad's get into "that zone" of performance where it shouldn't end and needs to stagger on and on and on while paying homage to the "less is more" philosphy. Thicker guitars and heavier drums ring out much like a marching giant. The true size of a giant isn't how big it is, but how far his steps echo out.
Smells like:
Old whiskey burning on an old wooden bar from an extinct tree.
Tastes like:
Sautéed grizzly bear seared to perfection with onion rings and cigars. No filler - fuck salad.
Feels like:
Blindfolded chiropractic adjustment with extra-large leathered hands.
Looks like:
Kowalski's 1970 Challenger, but instead of driving into a barricade - driving into Jaws.
This group of chivalrous gentlemen are found here in internetland: