Feb 15, 2007

The leanest rock’n’roll isn’t the most simple. Never make that mistake. It has muscles hiding underneath and doesn’t tire after repeated listens. Also never mistake meaty chops for dunderhead cock rock. In one respect, the dudes of Billy Reese Peters were born in the wrong era—of Cheap Trick, Creedence, AC/DC, Tom Petty—all of which they channel. But, fuck it. They’re born perfectly in time. They’re a clarifying band, a wrecking ball, reminding self-righteous punks allergic to a good time of the pure, sonic salve of self-effacing dude rock’n’roll. Billy Reese is not only a band that induces Angus Young’s high-knee’d strutting, encourages a level of partying that could kill small animals, makes you strong enough to lounge naked in a bath tub of ice and beer, but, secretly, are some of the most compassionate and human dudes you could ever want to come in contact with. Live, they turn a beer commercial into a tear-jerking ballad. Seven years together and this is their first full-length. Thumbs up.

 –todd (No Idea)