In the early 00’s several bands wanted to take back rock n’ roll from fusions and modern studio technology. It became a simple throwback instead of a renaissance, recreating the old looks and sounds, all done professionally. It was nice, melodic and well done but, to me, lacked the uniqueness and vividness that the original stuff had. It lacked what made it stand out in the 60s — what made people want to start the revolution in the first place.
Then again, if you turned off the radio around that time, looking for “real” rock n’ roll in terms of heat and excitement, you might have stumbled upon Zen Guerrilla’s masterful album Shadows On the Sun. This record not only brought back garage and R&B from the 60s but did so with such swagger, spark, and circumstance that you couldn’t help but getting up, shouting and dancing and popping someone in the eye. It’s the spirit of music repossessed by young musicians sounding like the pioneers did in between fistfights and sneaking a toke at the sock hop. Zen Guerrilla were not newcomers, they were on their fifth album and second for Sub Pop. They also shared their sense of desperation and fire with New Bomb Turks, but the way they played the notes and violently let their spirit loose is what gave bands like Zen their place. This makes them more than just music or — worse — product, they become a sense, a drug, an emotional state.
There’s nothing overtly original about their songs, except they are well executed, well written, and played like meteors that are falling from the sky — it seems that not only will there be no tomorrow, but we might not even see the end of today either. Others might have the radio hits and critical approval; Zen Guerrilla have the spirit of getting it on.