The Big Gun Show Comes To The Party Sporting a Sexy Swagger

Roll down the window and crank the volume to ten boys because Austin's own The Big Gun Show has one hell of a compelling rock enchanter on its hands. "Swagger" cuts all the machismo worthy moves you'd want to go alongside your bottle of Shiner Bock. Vocalist Gunter Woodson sure as hell does have his swagger back and is only too happy to share it with the rest of the planet. You will be blown away by his spellbinding guitar work and the way his pipes don't lack for confidence. What else could you expect from a man sporting a Cadillac and a bottle of Jack. I'm taken aback by the surgical precision used in belting out notes both human and instrumental. You can easily succumb to its myriad charms once you've crept up on your third bottle of beer. Yates Hagan pounds away on skins, bravado fully armed to the teeth. He's slow but steady and that's packing all the heat you could possibly ask for. Where couldn't you crank this puppy up and, in the process, experience a warm, lingering contact high. You'd be the envy of your friends blasting it at Lake Travis or Lady Bird Lake. They'd know the party truly had gotten started. Gunter's voice brings on the smoky roadhouse feel in spades. I'd say the 3:25 playing time doesn't do this effort enough justice. You hope for a compelling bridge but maybe it's true that good things do come in small packages. The guitar and drum bump into and subsequently play off each other in eyeball popping style. As fot the bass, that's where the unabashed sex appeal comes from. Can't you just visualize the bra strap being unhooked? It's a thing of beauty let me assure you. "Swagger" isn't hard to follow in the chord progression department. The notes don't go sliding wildly from one end of the spectrum to the other. Instead we get a smartly paced look at a fantastic peep show that's an all ages kind of affair. Gunter has the time of his life reveling in how deep his swagger runs. When he utters "I got my swagger back" you get the notion he's kind of discovering it in some born again state of being. The newness strikes me as wonderfully infectious. "Swagger" merits repeated listenings regardless of whether you're drunk, sober, horny, or Puritan. Last call never came across so beautifully lascivious.

Adelitas Way Ignites One Heady Fuse

Let's face facts from the start. There aren't enough positive adjectives out there for me to do justice to Adelita's Way's smoking hot new single "Ready For War (Pray For Peace)". It's catnip for any lover of hard rock. Trevor "Tre" Stafford gets a real head of steam going behind the skins. The longer his reign of terror goes, the more intoxicating it goes on to become. We're talking true battering ram, gloves totally off. Lead vocalist Rick DeJesus hits every cue placed in front of him and even some he had to have conjured up in his gleefully twisted cranium. And about those guitar sequences. Robert Zakaryan excels throughout. He unloads salvo after salvo, taking not one single prisoner. The work the man does at the bridge has the ability to set neck hairs on edge. Bassist Andrew Cushing doesn't sit too light in the loafers either. Each passing rumble elevates the level of potential enjoyment. On the lyric sheet the Winnebagos are circling, pistols cocked and ready for the looming struggles waiting in the wings. Rick's ready to crack some skulls, but the call for peace still lingers in his restless brain. "You take the truth and spin it" strikes me as perfect language perched on the doorstep of the upcoming Trump presidency. "You cut my fuse and lit it" sums up the ire of displeased anti-Trump voters. The future has this sepia toned darkness to it that Adelita's Way sums up magnificently. The band drops into a perfect synchronicity right out of the box. The first half digs its heels into your back and won't remove its spikes that easily. The sound gels like nothing I've heard the guys deliver before and that's saying something given the tight hooks it's dished out previously. I wouldn't call "Ready For War (Pray For Peace) a rallying cry, but I must confess it has the potential to convince many a citizen not to hesitate to take immediate, decisive, knuckle bearing action. The tempo goes whole hog on the "catch me if you can" mentality. If this was comparable to leaded gasoline punch I'd say this tank's being fed via premium leaded. The chord choices are dressed to kill. Calculated material if ever something could be pinned down as such. The choices deftly weave harmony and raw, muscular aggression. Rick's energy level never falters, an important asset when battle lines are clearly being drawn. He succeeds at grabbing the attention spans of the complacent and shaking it up much like you shake out dust bunnies from a throw rug. Trevor's drumming only makes the fuse burn brighter and smolder for a longer stretch. Adelita's Way gets behind the whole team concept in spades. If you're seeing stars at the song's conclusion, thank or blame them as a collective, not as separate entities. "You talk a mile a minute" sounds highly presidential in nature. Trump lives and dies by the tweet. I doubt Adelita's Way had political agenda first and foremost in its mind but the climate is ripe for that kind of thinking. "Ready For War (Pray For Peace)" gets off some highly convincing rounds that should linger long after the associated pistol smoke fades away.

The Pretty Reckless Rattles Off An Unsatisfying Wish List

Good thing The Pretty Reckless brings an impressive barrage of drums and guitar to its brand new single "Oh My God" because at least there's flavor added by that gesture. Vocalist Taylor Momsen, time and again brings up her psychological wish list. She wishes she could go back to when she was dumb and innocent. She wishes she was thin, black (cause that's where soul music really gets cranking you see). She wishes she was dead (poor thing). She wishes she could do something smarter than sing, which leads me to wonder since when was singing considered a stupid occupation. Plenty of intellectual gravitas behind that stock in trade. She even alludes to drowning in depression and harboring a need to swim. Make no mistake...were it not for the blisteringly hot guitar and drums on display I'd declare "Oh My God" a three minute twenty-one second waste of air. There's not a hell of a lot to be said for a song dedicated to lamenting what's just out of one's grasp while failing to do much to salvage the situation. Ben Phillips supplies the octane behind his lead guitar and the sweat he pours into the battering ram style really shows. Jamie Perkins came to play on drums. He shies away from being content to stay in second gear. He comes out of the chute ready to ride, and isn't that what all rock fans crave...a chance to revel in the trip. Ultimately though it's Taylor's baby and it doesn't do much dressing to impress. Her pipes are plenty smoky enough to get the attention of even the nastiest well worn bar but, as is usually true for a running back who cranks out three hundred plus yards in a losing effort, Taylor's efforts come off as royally wasted. You could say she's all blow and no show. I mean isn't self improvement up to the individual rather than the paying customers she's caterwauling to? If you want to get optimum mileage out of "Oh My God" please focus your attention on every instrument but Taylor's. You'll feel infinitely more refreshed. Whining loses its appeal really fast if ever there was appeal to be had. "Oh My God" leaves me muttering "Jeez Louise" can this women not track down a therapist or something. She appears to have issues on top of issues. What's more her lyrics make her ill-suited to take any of them on with any degree of certainty. Better places to get those ironed out than in the professional confines of a recording studio. Louise needs to make her syllables count for far more than kvetching. Otherwise there isn't much of a tale to tell.