Happy Tuesday to y’all! So let’s get right into it! Today, the keepers of the Rock flame (my opinion, and my opinion, in this regard, happens to be the right one), Local H unleash their latest album on the rock starved masses. That album? Hey, Killer. Coming in at under forty seven minutes of attack, the band sucker punches rock’s major detractors (*AHEM* Gene “Hack” Simmons” and Rob “Fuck! Don’t My Movies Suck” Zombie) and proves that the genre is alive and well.
Local H release Hey, Killer just six days shy of the band’s 25th anniversary of existence. Let’s think about this for a second. Local H frontman Scott Lucas has soldiered on for 25 years and weathered the storm of not only losing a bass player early on. No problem. Rather than find a replacement, he just thought to add a bass pickup to his guitar. Makes sense, right? And then there were two. Oh, wait…
In 1998, their one time major label, Island Records, was folded up by the monster that is Universal. With that, their third masterpiece, Pack Up The Cats, gets lost in the shuffle during that time; thus, no real promotional push for the album. It only gets better from there. In 1999, original drummer, Joe Daniels up and quits leaving Lucas the only original member. What does Scott do? Does he take his ball and go home? Fuuuuck NO! Enter Brian St. Clair. Together, the band goes on to slaughter audiences with their two man assault.
In February of 2013 while touring in Russia, Scott is mugged by some Commie piece of shit who chokes him out to the point of damaging his vocal chords and leaving him for dead. Three dates of the band’s east coast tour get cancelled while Scott recovers.
In October of 2013, Brian plays his last show with Local H. Basher Ryan Harding joins and thus here we are.
April 14, 2015. Exactly 150 years after Illinois lost it’s other favorite son, Local H graces us with Hey, Killer.
The song gives me chills…hundreds of listens later it still does.
The album opener kicks in with a wave of distortion that is, “The Last Picture Show In Zion“. Instantly, I’m hooked and quickly reminded of the band’s consistency of topping themselves time and again. From “The Last Picture Show In Zion“, the band punches the listener right in face with “City Of Knives“. I feel assaulted… and happily so. By the time “Freshly Fucked” hits, I catch myself unconsciously bopping to the beat of Ryan’s drumming. Up next, “The Misanthrope” . I first heard “The Misanthrope” when Scott and Ryan were doing sound check during their last New York go around. I’d never heard anything like it. The song gives me chills, and you know what, hundreds of listens later, it still does. Hell, as I write this, I’ve had the album on loop and “The Misanthrope” IS currently playing and you know what? The chills have yet to subside.
To all of those who had the audacity to publicly denounced Rock…FUCK. YOU.
The first of two mellowed tracks is next. “One Of Us” is beautiful but sad, however, I’m perked right the fuck up with “Leon and the Game of Skin“, “Mansplainer“, and “Age Group Champion“. Nearing the end of the album, and the band has yet to show any signs of letting up. For as many times as I’ve listened to it, “John the Baptist Blues” never ceases to bring to mind two things: that great jamming the fuck out moment that the H gave us with “Buffalo Trace” from their 2004 album, Whatever Happened To PJ Soles?, and I can’t help but keep the images from Martin Scorcese’s “The Last Temptation of Christ” from swimming in my head for the whole six minute duration of the song. It happens every single time. Whatever. Hey, Killer closes out with the lucid dream that is “I Am A Salt Mine“.
This is a perfect record. Before Hey, Killer, I always knew no matter when Local H’s next album was going to be presented to the masses that I had a list in my head of where I ranked the band’s album, and the list always changed order with the exception of that number one spot. The number one spot was reserved for one album in particular and I can say with all honesty after having lived with Hey, Killer for a month now (I love that I’m press!), that there’s a new number one. To all of those who had the audacity to publicly denounce Rock, I’ll say what Hey, Killer says in its run time of 46 minutes. FUCK. YOU.
Lastly, back in late March, I had the good fortune to have a face to face interview with Local H in New York. Look, I’ve already typed enough, so I’ll just leave you with this: #Waffles. Enjoy.
Purchase Local H’s latest masterpiece at the following places: