Release Date: Feb 19, 2013
Record label: No Quarter
Named after a 1971 album by John Lee Hooker, this New York band is a primalblues juggernaut with surprising textural depth. Endless Boogie don't jam on Long Island, their third LP. They churn, whipping their monastic crudity (yapping-hound riffs; stern, straight rhythms) into a tripleguitar lava of eccentric precedents – Can, Captain Beefheart, the Groundhogs – charged with the fury of the '69 Stooges ("Occult Banker") and the unforgiving drone of the Velvet Underground ("The Montgomery Manuscript").
Endless Boogie are not a band given to nuance and introspection. Thet call themselves Endless Boogie, for God’s sake, and the name is apt. The opening track to their third album in five years, Long Island, is titled “The Savageist” and runs thirteen and a half minutes—roughly all of which are spent in full-meltdown molten guitar-riff mode. Want more? Here’s “The Artemus Ward” and “Imprecations”, both of which run for exactly 9:17, but are otherwise profoundly different.
‘Record-collection rock’ tends to carry certain negative connotations: perfunctory, mannered, among others. But Endless Boogie, a bunch of grizzled buzzards from New York, reclaim the zing in two ways. Paul Major, the Endless Boogie founder member who sings like an awesome cross between Captain Beefheart and Popeye, has bought and sold mega-rare psychedelic LPs for over three decades.
If nothing else, New York's Endless Boogie will go down in the annals of rock history for laying claim to one of the most appropriate band names of all time. Frontman Paul Major (aka Top Dollar) have a few things they do very well, so fans will be happily unsurprised to hear that Long Island, their third proper release for No Quarter, is very much an Endless Boogie record. Which is to say that it's another scummy, riff-stacked, delightfully boneheaded affair.
Sometimes you look at a band and you just know. Endless Boogie is like that – grizzled East Coast heads that play fucked up rock & roll long and slow, formed via the international record collecting scene. They look like the kind of guys you might find adding cheap bourbon to greasy reheated coffee in a 24 hour New Jersey diner before a 12 hour night shift.