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Forty-Fives Fight Dirty

By Frank Meyer, Contributing Editor
Thursday, August 7, 2003 @ 1:40 PM


(Yep Roc)

- advertisement -
Of all the “garage rock revival bands” that are getting the big press these days, Atlanta’s Forty-Fives makes minced meat of them all. Forget your Hives, White Stripes or Datsuns -- they are all just pale imitators of the real deal.

The Forty-Fives are the real deal.

Arguably the best new(ish) authentic rock ‘n’ roll band on the planet right now, the Forty-Fives play danceable, kick-ass rock the way the Stones, the Sonics or the Yardbirds did in their heyday. The songs are memorable, the deliver is full-throttle and the musicianship is top-notch. What more do ya want? Charm, charisma, arrogance? They got it all, baby, and then some. Yep, Fight Dirty is a record for people who like their rock to, well, ROCK!!!!!

“Trying To Get Next To You” kicks things off with a big ol’ bang of Monkees on crack ass-shakin’ fury and things never let up after that! “The Devil Beats His Wife” is a barnburning rocker that would make the Reverend Horton Heat blush and “Midnight Creep” is indeed creepy and should only be played at night. If “What A Way To Go” doesn’t get you and your girl slow dancing to it’s heroin-sheik groove, then surely “My Kind of Girl” will get you two fuckin’ in no time, with it’s upbeat bounce and lusty lyrics of bedtime bedlam.

And as if things couldn’t get more rockin’, the double-shot ending of “Great Escape” and “Never Gonna Leave Here” assures that things end on a high note. “Great Escape” is just pure Aero-Boogie boozin’ and bloozin’, while “Never Gonna Leave Here” simply cuts your head clean off with good ol’ rockin’ backbeat butchery.

As drummer Adam Renshaw and bassist Mark McMurtry provide the kinda backbeat you could build a house on -- sturdy, steady and tough as iron. Guitarist/singer Bryan Malone croons like Davy Jones’ evil street-tough twin brother and fires off leads like a one-eyed Liberian freedom fighter jacked up on smack and armed with a rock launcher of riffs and tricks. Yet it’s keyboardist Try Tidwell that really serves as the secret weapon in the war to save rock, bashing out licks and riding swells like only a seasoned pro can (except that this fucker has only been playing like 5 years!!! Prodigal bastard!). His accents and touches compliment the songs perfectly and raise their sound above the normal guitar din.

Fuck the rest, the Forty-Fives are the best. All other “garage rock” bands should retire so we can lay to rest that silly genre title and simply crown the Forty-Fives the best band in the land. If you think I’m wrong then you’re just a dumbshit and haven’t seen this band yet. Please do… or go die.

* * * * 1/2


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