Outta the gate I gotta say writin' about a release called 'Full House Head' & failin to mention J Geils Band is harder than findin' a white bean in a black cat's ass. Not that I got anything against 'em, hell, the ex-Mr. Faye Dunaway had that ass whoopin' comin' from me in Louisville back 'round 75. And like I told Seth Justman that night too "I got a Hotline for ya, shorty; my fist up side your head". Think It Over indeed, my little Beantown bud.
And while we's is on the subject of a thumpin', how about this new knockout from Endless Boogie what's called 'Full House Head'? It's done got me all riled up! Over the course of more than a decade long career I've watched this bunch morph from mutant hominid bar choogle to luxuriating' in fissions that split open a portal what connected Coloured Balls & Velvet Underground to now redefinin' what Rock IS in the 2nd decade of the 21st Century. The production's spiffier, the rhythm's cagier, the solo's sharper & the singin, witchier. It's comfort y'all, the comfort to rock it both languorously & intricately. This zone is short of pretense & long in talent. Given the breadth of the excellence what's passed through afore, you might spin this & hear everything from Patto note moaners & Groundhogs riffage, to Seeds-like chatter or even goddamn 'Exile era Stones texturalization. But it ain't none of that, cause it can't be. The future is always steeped in the past & originality is invested in those who don't dial it in. And Endless Boogie most certainly walk it like they rock it. This may be called �Full House Head', but you can beat me with a corncob harmonica & call me Magic Dick if the contents therein ain't that of a Royal Flush Jam.
And I should know, because I have ears.