The 6OGs "Love" Rock and Roll: Island of Love, Lydia Loveless, and Bush League All-Stars

After a journey into the trippy and jazzy sides of conscious hip-hop coming from New York, Zambia, and Burkina Faso that made us think about the roots of the genre, this post takes us to the essence of rock and roll, both sonically and lyrically.  In the end, it’s guitars, bass, and drums driving with all of their force to the sound of a singer belting about one thing: love. Finding it, losing it, desiring it, and not even being sure what it is.  Two of the artists even have “love” right in their name.  Time to tune up the air guitars for this one.      

New album: Island of Love by Island of Love.  First things first: cue up and play Track 6 on this album: “I’ve Got the Secret.”  If a more perfect or exhilarating song comes out in 2023, then what a year it will be for anyone who loves rock and roll.  But I’m pretty skeptical it’s possible, given the genius of this song: from the opening guitar riff, the booming drum beat that kicks in, and the drive of the tune throughout.  The lyrics are nothing special, but the vocal performance fits the song perfectly.  It’s an incredible ride, and I’ve taken it no less than 50 times in the week since I’ve discovered the record.     

With those cards on the table, back to the album as a whole (since this is a site focused on albums, not songs).  Island of Love is a new band from London, signed in the most rock and roll of stories: playing a blistering live set and having a guy from the label – Third Man Records, no less, run by Jack White – sign them on the spot.  It’s a story straight from London of the late 1960s, New York in the late 1970s, or Seattle in the 1990s – which is apt, because Island of Love, if nothing else, feels like a band that captures and channels the entire history of rock.  From the simple core of blues to the grandiosity of classic rock to the intensity of punk to the blend of grunge, every part of the genre feels welcome and with its own corner on the Island.

The album kicks off with “Big Whale,” the opening of which may make you double check lists of B-sides from the Replacements in the era between Tim and Pleased to Meet Me, though the lyrics about watching a friend who’s destroying a relationship and trying to get the friend to realize how much they’re loved, are a bit too basic and direct to rise to the level Paul Westerberg was at by then.  But the sound and the energy takes you right to mid-80s Minneapolis.  “Big Whale” takes a break midway through, slowing to an almost broken-down dirge before the blistering “Fed Rock” blasts off, an early 2000s New York-feeling track that is a slightly bluesier and tad less produced version of where the Strokes were when they began.  Again, the lyrics and vocals feel like they are there mainly to serve the song, rather than drive or center it, but with the drive of the guitars and drums, I think of the vocals and writing as an area for improvement, rather than an actual weakness.    

By track 4 (“Blues 2000”), the 1960s guitar god urge emerges, with some intense solos laid across two minutes, which then unfold into a sort of power ballad, “Sweet Loaf,” where the vocal style somehow blends Nick Drake with Chris Robinson of the Black Crowes and results in a track that feels like it could have been the B-side to a Screaming Trees 7” (yes, we’re old guys here) in the mid-90s.  Again, the lyrics are good, not great, a tale of a guy who’s undecided where he wants to go with a girl who first broke his heart and now won’t leave him alone, a mid-20’s malaise that has been at the core of so many great songs, from Robert Johnson to Exile-era Rolling Stones to Modest Mouse.           

All of which sets the stage for “I’ve Got the Secret,” the pinnacle of the record and, as I’ve now declared, also of what rock and roll will be in 2023.  The lyrical theme carries through from “Sweet Loaf,” rooted in the uncertainty of what to do about a lover who may now be with another guy (“I’m alone/I can’t find my home/If she’s with another bloke/And they’re getting close/Then just let me go/it won’t let me go”).  Somewhere, the guys in Japandroids are wondering if Island of Love hacked into their vault of songs produced between Post-Nothing and Celebration Rock.  Perhaps no band has ever been better at churning out fist-banging anthems rooted in emotional uncertainty than that Canadian duo, though Island of Love may be staking their claim to be heirs to that throne. 

Feel free to listen to it a few times before an almost equally great blues rock track, “Losing Streak,” a song that sonically would have a place on any early 70s Stones album or somewhere in the catalogue of 6OGs favorites, Titus Andronicus.  The lyrics take a stronger turn, taking the mix of self-awareness, self-reflection, and self-deprecation that is present on earlier songs and making something more with it: “I feel you slip through my fingers/the memory of you still lingers/my friends say “why don’t you just ring her”/well, ‘cause then I’d have nothing to sing about.”      

The tour of rock continues on the last few tracks, culminating in an 8-minute gem, “It Was All OK Forever.”  This is a gem with flaws, of course, a song that covers multiple styles, tempos, and feelings across heartbreak at the end of a relationship – starting slow and acoustic, speeding up, slowing down, getting very loud, then quiet, then settling in mid-tempo.  It’s the chance for the band to get it all out, to show they can get all the way to the point of falling apart just before salvaging things.  For the most part, the lyrics are again too straight-ahead (“It was all ok forever/nothing will ever be the same/Sometimes I try to remember/Easier said than it is done”) to be next level, though the song does give the band and album its name (“You’re an island of love in a sea of despair/I’m lonesome again ‘cause you’re nowhere near/Seems such a shame, I miss you every day/But I don’t know what to say/So please don’t come ‘round here, please go away”).        

This one took me back to a version of the band itself: 10 years ago, one of the hot punk bands signed in the London underground scene on the basis of their live shows was the Palma Violets; multiple outlets (from the BBC to Filter to the Washington Post) declared in 2012 and 2013 this was the next big thing in London punk.  Their debut album, known mainly for the single “Best of Friends,” ended with an incredible song, “14,” where the band also threw everything it had left at the wall in a song all about producing a big radio hit.  It was a glorious end to what felt like just an opening statement to a remarkable career.  My ears still ring almost 10 years after I saw them live. 

As it turned out, Palma Violets didn’t do much else, putting out one more album and then more or less fizzling in the coming years, and only occasionally popping up since.  One can only hope Island of Love does not end up in that same Sea of Despair that Palma Violets did.  But if they leave us only with this debut tour of rock and roll genres and history that reminds us all how new and exciting channeling the past can feel, then the trip to the Island will have been well worth it (Brad).     

 Album from an upcoming/recent live show:  Somewhere Else by Lydia Loveless.  The last show I saw before the world shut down was Drive-By Truckers at the 9:30 Club on February 29, 2020.  I was more than eager to see them again when they came to town on April 29, their first show back at the 9:30 Club after more than three years away.  As usual, they put on a great show, with newer songs like “Welcome 2 Club XIII” and classics like “Steve McQueen,” “Ronnie and Neil,” and “Putting People on the Moon.”  It was great to hear the Truckers blow the roof off one of the best rock clubs in the world for 2.5 hours, but that’s to be expected; they are well-known for their killer live shows.  The real treat of the night was the opening act – a singer-songwriter originally from Columbus, Ohio named Lydia Loveless.

I was only minimally familiar with Loveless’ music going in, and she ended up playing one of the best opening sets I’ve seen in some time.  As a country-rock singer and guitarist who writes hard-charging songs with emotional lyrics, Loveless was a perfect match for the Truckers and their rocking lyrics about the dark side of the (usually Southern) United States.

Loveless’ third album, Somewhere Else, captures her on-stage energy.  Right off the bat, album opener “Really Wanna See You” starts with cowpunk chords that bring to mind Still Feel Gone-era Uncle Tupelo.  The tone softens just a bit with “Wine Lips” but Loveless maintains her edge lyrically as she belts out a honky-tonk inspired ode to lust (“Honey, this isn’t a party if it’s chaperoned”).  While “Head” might seem, on first listen, to cover similar lyrical territory, it’s really about yearning for lost love (“Maybe if I think about you hard enough you’ll be there waiting on me”).  The title track ups the twang a bit and succeeds in being introspective and honest but not whiny or maudlin (“’Cause I guess I’m just the spoiled brat my daddy said that I was / Yeah that used to make me so fucking angry”).  In the soulful “Verlaine Shot Rimbaud,” Loveless uses the real-life incident as inspiration for her modern romantic goals (“Well, Verlaine shot Rimbaud ‘cause he loved him so / And honey, that’s how I want to go”).  “Hurts So Bad” is a mid-tempo Rolling Stones-inspired country-rocker, while “Chris Isaak” also leans heavily into country-rock while Loveless sings about being 17 years old and listening to Forever Blue.  The album closer is a cover of Kirsty MacColl’s “They Don’t Know,” which somehow stays true to the original while adding a bit of country flavor.

Any of Loveless’ first four albums – Indestructible Machine, Boy Crazy, Somewhere Else, and Real – can provide a sense of how powerful she is as a live performer and how gifted she is as a songwriter.  Loveless’ fifth album, Daughter, is mellower and does not pack the same punch as her live act.  Somewhere Else is the ideal combination of Loveless’ early raw energy, her maturing songwriting, and her alt-country vibe.  When opening for the Drive-By Truckers, Loveless played a couple of new songs that fit the mold of the first few albums.  Let’s hope her next full-length continues in that direction. (Brian)

Album being rediscovered (at least 10 years old): Old Numbers by Bush League All-Stars.  First things first: Play “Downwind” at least five times in a row. Built around a massive guitar riff, it’s a song that channels you straight into a bar with a beer in your hand (the first thing you hear on the record is someone saying “set ‘em up and knock ‘em down, boys” – and the opening riff definitely knocks ‘em down).  The lyrics center on the feeling of being with a lover, even if it’s someone that others think isn’t quite the best choice.  It’s a straight-ahead celebration of a rock song, replete with harmonica solo at the end, taking you close to the core of Southern rock while maintaining just enough punk edge to keep you on your toes.

Judging by the numbers on YouTube (most songs from this album number between 50-300 views, the BLAS channel has all of 8 subscribers, and this album is not available on their Bandcamp page), Old Numbers is an album from 1994 that needs to be discovered by nearly everyone, rather than rediscovered.  But if you’ve gotten through 2000 words of writing about the first two albums of this post, you’ll find elements and roots in both of offerings from this record.  Given that BLAS is also from Columbus, it’s not crazy to think that Lydia Loveless would know the album and band, or that somewhere in a dusty used record bin, Island of Love drew some inspiration from their survey of rock history.  The album came to me through a friend in the mid-90s, and periodically I go back to it when I need to channel sounds from the 90s that were somewhere between alt-country and Southern hard rock (as the album cover below should more or less tell you on its own), with a punk feel built in (the band’s bio describes references as the Replacements, Dream Syndicate and X); most recently, Island of Love pushed me back to listen again.

And like Island of Love, Old Numbers opens with that big sound with “Downwind.” My recollection was that this album was ten rockers all in a row.  But this is why we revisit albums, as the next couple of tracks (“Flawless” and “Through the Thick of It”) slow down a bit as more or less straight-up blues tracks, both wrestling with complicated feelings in relationships at different stages.  “Conversation with Myself” gets back to the big riff and bigger guitar sounds, feeling close to the early records by the Jayhawks (without the harmonies), and “Pencilweight” brings in horns for texture against another massive riff.    

“Liar’s Song” is not the last track on the album, but in my mind, it always has been, and I rarely play the last two tracks.  With music that feels somewhere between Grand Funk Railroad and Led Zeppelin and ominous lyrics focused on revenge at the end of a bad breakup, it’s a banger just close to the level of “Downwind” and deserves multiple plays in a row.

According to the very long and complicated bio on their page, Bush League All-Stars had a moment to make it, but many of the usual stories took over: artistic differences, relationships, never quite finding the right lane to fill in the music scene.  Two more records came out eventually, in 2009 and 2017, but without much notice or fanfare.  Perhaps the name destined them to never get far beyond Ohio and small clubs.  In the end, “Old Numbers” doesn’t quite stick together like it did for me in the past, but as a piece of the rock and roll puzzle that would connect artists like Island of Love and Lydia Loveless, it deserves a few spins. (Brad)