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The Buck Stops Here
“I got laser beam eyes and a millionaire
smile.”
--Baddass, Black Robot
What is the alchemy of
rock? Turning basic riffs and clever lyrics into golden song. Sure
the formula for success has other ingredients – attitude, image,
instrumental chops and universal timing come to mind – but at the
core, the molten, smoldering, incendiary core, is two-hands
manipulating six strings and a commanding voice to deliver the
message. You don’t have that; you don’t have shit.
From the
opening AC/DC inspired groove of “Cocaine” – a wickedly arranged
cover of J.J. Cale’s narcotic classic – Black Robot serves instant
notice with their self-titled debut that not only do they have it,
they damn near destroyed the laboratory to get it. This
mechanical/musical beast was conceived and constructed for the
divine, ultimate destruction of brain cells, ear fibers and false
perceptions about what it truly means to rock as if our very
survival as a race depended on it.
Black Robot is the
brainchild of founding Buckcherry bassist, Jonathan “JB” Brightman
and Detroit-bred front man, Huck Johns. JB began sketching out his
futuristic comic-book hero shortly after the turn of millennium in
the wake of his departure from the band that gave him a sweet but
fleeting taste of the rock n’ roll dream. “Buckcherry (1999) went
platinum and it was awesome,” recalls the New York City native who
relocated west in 1989 when the decadent Sunset Boulevard music
scene exploded. “Opening for AC/DC, my favorite band of all time,
living the life yeah it was great but I lost my enthusiasm after our
second LP tanked. We were out whoring ourselves in small venues,
making money for management but our pockets were fucking empty. I
had a storage unit in Hollywood, this is mid-2001, and one day I run
into (GN’R, Velvet Revolver) drummer, Matt Sorum. He says, ‘Hey man,
you store your gear here, too?’ and I was like, ‘No, dude, I live
here!’ Lean times, for sure. That’s when I first met Huck.”
“Buckcherry
was passing through Detroit opening for Kid Rock,” recalls the motor
city songster with the sandpaper-soul pipes. “We met while partying
at Alto Reed’s (sax player for Bob Seger) house. We hit it off,
stayed in touch, and when I moved to L.A. a couple years later, I
crashed on JB’s sofa. We hung out, wrote songs, and started to feel
this cool thing evolving. I’d just come off a less than fabulous
solo campaign with Capitol Records and was well acquainted with the
hand-to-mouth lifestyle. We shared a mutual distaste for the
corporate music biz and were confident we could make some kickass
music together and sell it independent. But beyond killer tunes, we
felt we needed some sort of image hook, like a post-modern theme.”
Enter the robot. Big, black, and extremely badass. In this
do-it-yourself liberated garage band/YouTube/MySpace culture, any
band has the remarkable opportunity to not just own their product
but play a significant role in how that product is perceived and
disseminated into the marketplace. JB and Huck did not just fall off
the cabbage truck. They’ve been through the system, learned some
lessons and believe they possess a keen understanding of where their
monster is headed. “I worked at the Tower Records in downtown
Manhattan when Guns N’ Roses released Appetite for Destruction,”
remembers JB. “I opened the first box of LPs that came into the
store. There were just two copies. Two. I put one in the DJ booth
and the other in the retail bin. We spun it day and night, told our
friends this was coolest new album on the planet. That’s how it
started with GN’R; word of mouth. The Live Like a Suicide EP
released overseas created an enormous underground buzz. We’d like to
see that same viral miracle happen with Black Robot. We really
believe, as far as the music goes, we’ve made our own fierce, dirty,
honest, complete record.”
The songs bear witness to this
proclamation. “Baddass” possesses a Buckcherry locomotive drive and
playfully narcissistic theme, “Love on a 45” grabs you with its
saccharine hook and makes no bones about its message. “It kinda
describes what it’s like to date L.A. girls that have their heads up
their asses,” laughs Huck. “In My Car” is, to put it simply, a
driving song that the guys shamelessly hope will wind up in an
automotive ad. “Hey, we may not sell a lot of records,” confesses
JB. “Getting our song in a cool ad for an American car company,
that’s another source of potential revenue. Right?” Absolutely. So
is landing a fat, passionate ballad on a WB TV show. For that
campaign, the Aerosmith-flavored, “I’m in Love” fits like a velvet
glove. You can just see one of the Gossip Girls rolling around on
her privileged satin sheets as the vintage strains of this
exceptional ballad provide the musical backdrop.
“Dissatisfaction” further exemplifies the depth of the LP with its
Led Zeppelin ferocity. “That song is very simply about being pissed
off,” says Huck. “Nervous Breakdown,” the long play’s finale, was
inspired by our blue-collar front man’s most challenging
relationship. “She was a northern California girl and we had a
pretty heavy six-year classic co-dependency run. There’s a bit of
blood in those vocals. I tried to sing my ass off on every track. I
mean, this record is our life. That’s no bullshit.”
Nor is
it promotional hyperbole. Black Robot is one formidable effort. It
stalks the listener, demands attention, and delivers the way a great
rock record should. The players include Yogi on lead guitars, Devon
Glenn on drums – both Buckcherry alumni – Darren Dodd and Chris
Powell also lending their solid stick work on percussion – and the
legendary session keyboard wizard, Fred Mandell (Elton John, Pink
Floyd, Queen) adding some tasty ivory magic to the mix. But perhaps
the key figure in crafting the Black Robot sound is producer Dave
Cobb, introduced to the band by JB’s twin brother, Andrew, a veteran
producer/artist manager who knew the fit was right. “Dave’s input
was invaluable,” says JB. “His sense of arrangement and knowledge of
odd instrumentation is genius. And he really brought Huck to another
level as a vocalist.”
The title track on the LP cynically
shouts, “Self-destruction is our destiny.” Our ebony-plated comic
book hero is a metaphor for an uncertain future fixated on the
unreal. He can’t help us until we help ourselves. The elixir is
music, the secret to survival is located somewhere in the sacred
shred that no man, beast, nor ‘bot can cast asunder. Black Robot has
arrived. Now what the fuck are you gonna do about it?
--
Lonn Friend copyright Rumi Enterprises 2009 |
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