Don't Fight The Heavy Vibe Alabama Shakes Is Laying Down

"Don't Wanna Fight" sets the pace in the battle for most compelling, guitar orgy of the year. I dare you to sniff out anything at this early stage of the game that comes anywhere near it. Brittany Howard vocalizes her way to the ecstasy bar with room to spare. Heath Fogg lays it down, folks. It's moments like that leave me so vindicated in regards to why I've dedicated so much of my life to music appreciation. Yes, there's plenty of junk to hold your nose over but buried underneath you get the chance to come away with brilliance like "Don't Wanna Fight". She works her way up and down your spine. She makes you get those sweat glands exerting at top efficiency. Alabama Shakes put on a clinic in the department of how to give yourself over to the sensations that embody music transcendence. You smile each time you recall hearing guitars wrapped so tight, bass plucked to maximize the massive goodness. Steve Johnson drums with unmatched authority. Imagine the basic goodness to the whole shebang. There isn't much to comment on other than a batch of souls walked into a recording studio and made magic on a par with some of the greatest garage rock you're likely to hold close to your eardrums. Relationship turmoil occupies a front and center seat on this vehicle. How important it seems that the lines of the lives of two intertwined souls don't cross. Both people in the tango have sworn to attack, to defend until there's nothing left worth winning. Day to day struggle rears its imposing head as well. I snatch up these sentiments from "The constant dedication. Keeping the water and power on." For a huge proportion of the population therein lies the payoff. Any other nicety is gravy on the meat and potatoes world's steak. Brittany spells out that there's shouldn't be need to fight when pride vs. pride leads only to no good. No relief to be had. The fun of living took a powder eons ago. 1982 #1 hit John Cougar (not Mellencamp yet) underscored that societal cruelty as a linchpin for "Jack and Diane". All together now...the more things change the more they stay the same. Couldn't you just eat this up beside a platter of Stubb's top of the line barbecue? While Stubb's already has a reputation. "Don't Wanna Fight" ought to have a nice sizable one really soon. Maybe if you've got some free space on your docket you could try closing your eyes and breathing in the unencumbered down to the tip of your toes heaven sent passion rock. The nice thing about a book is TV isn't there to fill in the imagination for you. Same holds true for taking in "Don't Wanna Fight" without outside stimuli clogging up your creativity. You can create your own happening scene free of before the fact suggestion. If you've got sexy on the brain maybe stripping to your undies while listening works wonders for you. To each his own. This particular chorus allows the instruments to zoom around the vocals rather than interject in a combative way. Zac Cockrell, bass armed to the teeth, justifies why we music obsessives declare we are not, I repeat, not, slackers who need a haircut, a real job, and a clue. Pursuing audio gold nuggets doesn't come close to being time wasted. If all we had to listen to were the wind rustling through the trees and the gurgling of our own restless stomachs, life as we know it to be would be lacking the certain zing that makes the dead tired rise from their slumber to keep ascertaining life isn't some prison without a warden to snatch the key from. I definitely don't wanna fight the exhilaration busting out at the seams of "Don't Wanna Fight". Talk about endearing goosebumps. Alabama Shakes, congratulations on giving me Central Texas chills.