The Morlocks aren't just your garden-variety droogs, nosirree...the band was originally formed back at the dawn of the retro-cool 1980s, and rode a similar paisley pony as the Chesterfield Kings and the Fuzztones to garage-rock nirvana. The revolution came off the rails in 1990 when the band's singer got locked up in a filthy Mexican hoosegow, saving the Morlocks the embarrassment of the grunge years. Reforming at the turn of the century with a new crew surrounding lead croaker Leighton Koizumi, the Morlocks have since roared back with a handful of lo-fi slabs o' vinyl, street cred and all-important reputation intact.
The Morlocks Play Chess is the band's homage to those long-gone sounds of yesteryear, a dozen ready-to-heat raves from the blues-infused R&B era of the 1950s. Muddy Waters, Howlin' Wolf, Little Milton, Sonny Boy Williamson, Chuck Berry, John Lee Hooker, and others are grist for the mighty stone wheels of the Morlocks' musical mill, the band putting their stank on these antique oldies-but-goodies, delivering comfortable if ramshackle performances that sound as aged as the worn album cover The Morlocks Play Chess portrays.
The Morlocks Play Chess
The Morlocks crank it up to 'ten' from the first minute with a blustery cover of Muddy Waters' signature "I'm A Man." The song's big opening bites like the Shadows of Knight before degenerating into Koizumi's deliberate and menacing staccato vocals; as the band marches loudly and proudly behind him in the mix, Koizumi brags and boasts his way towards the scorching guitar solo, the entire mess gleefully falling apart with a clash and a clatter. From this point on, all bets are off, the Morlocks joyfully and recklessly tearing their way through a veritable hit list of vintage 1950s blues, R&B, and rock, not all of these songs originally reverberating from the hallways of Chess Records.
Koizumi's corrosive vocals – a whiskey-soaked growling mutt bred from Stooges Iggy Pop and David Johansen of the New York Dolls – are perfectly suited to jumping into the Howlin' Wolf songbook. That said, the Morlocks' reading of "Killing Floor" is a particularly whipped cur, Koizumi's unusually reserved singing slung low in the mix, letting out only a couple of bloodthirsty howls. The band beats the living tar out of the arrangement, tho', with guitarist Bobby Bones laying down razor-sharp licks that bludgeon and boil with energy. On the other hand, Koizumi nails "Smokestack Lightning" with just the right amount of mindless rambling, his soulful vox wrapped around the lyrics tighter than a hungry anaconda and with about as much concern for nicety. A mournful harmonica wail sends this bad boy right into the stratosphere.
The Hits Keep On Rollin'....
And the hits just keep on rollin'...the often-broiled chestnut "Who Do You Love" has been turbo-charged over an open flame by every mook from Bo Diddley to lil' Georgie Thorogood, and the Morlocks deliver a reverb-laden bonfire of a cover, Koizumi barking at the moon as the drummer lays down a crazy, manic beat and the guitar rattles and shakes like a train wreck. John Lee Hooker's "Boom Boom" is provided a unique stomp-and-stammer, hurricane-strength arrangement with searing Duane Eddy-styled guitar-strum and a gale-force harp mugging. Chuck Berry's "Promised Land" is irrevocably removed from roots-rock infamy with a revved-up reading that owes as much to the Ramones as it does to a generation of duck-walking Chuck clones.
Reaching way back into the Delta blues songbook, the Morlocks assault the Mississippi Sheiks' signature hit "Sitting On Top Of The World" with their by-now-its-as-obvious-as-the-wart-on-your-face disregard for the rules of polite society. To be fair, the song has been "interpreted" in a thousand different ways by just about as many coin-chasing skells, from Big Bill Broonzy and R.L. Burnside to, most recently, the Carolina Chocolate drops, as well as a beggar's list of bluesgrass hacks and coffee-shack folkies. The Morlocks do it their way, slow and steady like a jackhammer, Koizumi slurring and spitting the words out in the best Sky Saxon/Stiv Bators tradition, adding an air of ClePunk authenticity to the band's grindhouse garage-blues performance. The Morlocks Play Chess finishes with a big bang, mauling Chuck Berry's "Back In The U.S.A." The song is afforded a spry 1950s roller-coaster dance beat smashed headfirst into '60s street-punk vocals and fretwork, the result the final nail in the coffin, the band ranting and rolling like they're onstage at some sort of demented sock hop gone horribly wrong.
The Reverend's Bottom Line
While blues purists would tear out their hair and run screaming from the room from the opening riffs of The Morlocks Play Chess, blues-rock fans less hidebound to tradition and possessing an impish, gleam-in-the-eye sense of humor will find these twelve white-hot lugnuts to be just their cuppa battery-acid etched spirits. The album doesn't sound so much like the Morlocks showed up at the Mississippi crossroads one dark and rainy night and struck a deal with the devil as much as they dropped by before the gig and bought a little extra fire, brimstone, and soul from Ol' Scratch...the result is entertaining, houserockin' music that is reverent in its own peculiar way. (Popantipop Records, released August 24, 2010)
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