Marah
Angels of Destruction!

They tried to exploit the Marah for the market. Right after "Kids in Philly" their great album from 2000 for Steve Earle's label. Just like the rich English clubs with the talented young players they spot on our soccer fields. Imagine if the record executives would let the Bielanko brothers, David and Serge from Philadelphia, slip through their fingers, who managed to create an album that brings Bruce Springsteen together with the Replacements. Something that keeps the sacred flicker of ragged rock burning all the way from the dust of American provinces to the smog of metropolitan asphalt. A producer like Owen Morris, used to working with successful bands (Verve and Oasis), and recordings in Britain to try to clean them up and thus reach the masses, accustomed to more fashionable but soulless stuff. But it was all in vain, the Bielanko brothers are too romantically foolish to give in to the sweet nothings of show business and have returned to what they do best: pouring forty years of blood&sweat rock into a cauldron and then rolling in the dust on the porch at the feet of any Mary for a run along thunder roads (listen to believe their old "Round Eye Blues").

 When last year the cups of my ears welcomed the alcoholic distillate of the new "Angel of Destruction!" I was about to cry from joy, because these damned drunks brought it all back home. They hired additional personnel, including the talented Christine Smith on keyboards, but the focus is always on the two of them on guitars with Dave who left his voice to marinate in the damp of the night, just like a Steve Marriott or a Dan Zanes.

 Everything back home....But which home? That sort of garage rock that lasts a scant three minutes in "Old Time Tickin' Away" or the celebratory courtyard of a frontier ranch complete with accordions and lalala embellishing "Santos de Madera"? The room on the first floor of the saloon where the syncopated boogie of "Wild West Love Song" resonates or perhaps the English pub where Lennon/McCartney forgot "Jesus in the Temple"? Sincerely I don't know, I just know that they concocted the same old scattered mess that made me put them on the record player, sure they would (s)crew me over once again playing at being bad, first lighting the fuse ("Coughing up Blood") to then extinguish the fire with the usual smarmy ballad ("Blue but Cool") as a last hope. Before sliding forever into the world of the splendid losers.

  Just like the Bielanko brothers, because I'm 100% sure that they will ruin everything once again.