Won’t You Bebad?


I used to live in Sydney. I went to Uni there, met some people that have changed my life…and discovered a band that quickly became one of my favourites.
I grew up on Motown and still foster a deep love for the down and dirty delta blues. Old second hand beat up guitar licks, thumping, bass, Bar-Kays groove and Funkadelic absurdity…
It was the blessing called RAGE that started it. The late night, weekends only music program that was on one of the four channels of Australian basic cable.
I heard a song. “try and see red” I think it was. And it filled me with such 2am joy that I ran to the nearest music store the next day to track it down. JB HiFi. Not the cheapest. Well, I was still used to American prices…but I dropped nearly $30 on the cd.
I don’t regret it.
I discovered them just in time for their second album, “Diamond Amongst the Thieves”, to come out. I snatched that shit up as fast as I could. And played it to over and over, to the dismay of other people.
I spread their music like gospel. “Oh, you like (whatever band might be playing)? Then you’ll fucking love these guys.”
It was around my birthday. Lowrider was playing at Luna Park (scariest fucking entrance to any place, but I braved it).
Small ass area…I mean…small. A little bar off to the side. Maybe three tables. A little stage.
…now, as an aside, I’ve been to see some seminal bands. Pearl Jam, Radiohead, Sonic Youth, UNKLE…all great, some massive, some took place in a park in front of the Manhattan skyline…
This is still one of my favourite concerts. It was a small crowd. Pushing 20 people if I’m being kind. But they killed it. They brought some old school hip-hop energy that had died in the early 90’s. They brought soul and funk and a medley that contained Dusty Springfield.
They fucking killed it.
It takes true passion to perform your heart out to a small, intimate crowd. To perform, and rock and groove and not be swayed by the people sitting on the carpeted floor…because even they were bobbing their heads and screaming and singing along.
Somehow, unlike a lot of bands, they are able to channel that live-performance-passion to their recorded albums.
I bought the first two, I bought the third. This week, I bought their newest album: “Black Stones”
It ranks up there. It’s great. “Pay Day” has that kind of churning gut-bass that “Music for My Mother” rests on.
“Day Time Tripping,” “Go Get Gone,” fuck…they are all good songs.
Click here for the itunes page to their new album. Get it. And get the rest. Or start at the beginning like me and let it wash over you as you hear their sound refine and bring the old school R&B back. Back to when it stood for Rhythm and Blues. When music had a heart and a soul and you felt something.
In music, Lowrider are becoming the equivalent to the opening drums of the Rhonette’s “Be My Baby”: refreshing, soulful, and completely bad ass.

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About litbandit

El Bandito Bibliotequa...or something.
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