4/5 stars
When rock’n’roll came to town in the ’50s, the self-proclaimed guardians of public decency feared the worst. With its penchant for hip-thrusting licks and salacious commentary, the emergence of rock’n’roll was the musical equivalent of a plague of locusts descending to devour society’s moral fibre. Things got so bad that Pat Boone was dispatched to co-opt this evil force and saturate it in an insipid sanitising wash.
Were such attitudes still dominant, it’s reasonable to assume Seedy Jeezus’ debut album would be viewed as further evidence of the impending moral apocalypse – a badge of honor in the context of rock’n’roll’s perverted sense of righteousness. To witness the delicious riffs of ‘Shakin’ The Fuse’ is to immerse yourself in the best song The Powder Monkeys never got around to writing; hang around for ‘Wormhole’, and it’s Led Zeppelin at the height of their vainglorious reign. Then you’ve got the 15-minute, kaleidoscopic metal treatise of ‘How Ya Doin’’. It starts slowly, a casual stroll through the poppy-strewn fields of early ’70s psychedelic rock. When a drum solo appears out of the darkness, it’s 1976 again, but in the very best of ways. Things get loud again, and everything is beautiful.
It’s tempting to ponder what Pat Boone would make of Seedy Jeezus, but he’d be too shit scared to hang around to find out.
