For as long as rock’n’roll bands have been making rock’n’roll records, there’s been criticism of those records for not accurately or adequately capturing the inherent energy of rock. There are a few exceptions, of course – Let There Be Rock comes to mind, and Raw Power – but it’s become a critical cliché, the “you really gotta see these guys live” argument, and it’s not unfounded: Rock’n’roll thrives in the cramped and loud environs of damp, dark basement clubs, packed with half-blitzed patrons, and it’s not as easy to capture in the sterile and lonely confines of the studio.
So when I run across a record like Black Magick Boogieland, which is so damn spirited and energetic that it’s impossible to listen to without grinning like a loon, I invariably think, “These guys must absolutely kill it live.”
But Death Alley lives in Amsterdam – and I live nowhere near there – so I can’t vouch for their on-stage prowess, but I can certainly attest to their rock’n’roll spirit, which pours out of every second of Black Magick Boogieland like so much beer-sweat from an over-stimulated crowd. As you’d expect from Tee Pee, there’s a hefty classic rock / stoner-rock swagger here, but there’s more than just that – Death Alley is stoner rock on speed, a glorious mash-up of punk and vintage rock like Blue Öyster Cult, Clutch, Black Sabbath, and the MC5. (That latter band famously avoided the live-vs-studio argument by debuting with a live album, and to grand results.)
From the twisting bluesy riffs of “Over Under” onward, Black Magick is a rollicking good time rock record – even the Hawkwind-y space pace of the twelve-minute closer “Supernatural Predator” pulses with energy. Former Devil’s Blood guitarist Oeds Beydals provides non-stop riffs, from the psychedelic pentatonic to the punked-out boogie to space rock, while vocalist Douwe Truljens’ clean midrange further anchors the Boogieland in classic rock. Still, it’s the rhythm that prevails, and I have this image of the band finishing up the one-two punch of “Stalk-Eyed” and “Dead Man’s Bones,” absolutely drenched in sweat and booze, staring at each other as the final notes ring out, and then drummer Ming Boyer just collapses backwards off his throne…
Neither punk nor metal, and yet enough of both, Black Magick Boogieland isn’t particularly blackened, but it certainly possesses rock’n’roll’s magic boogie in spades, and that’s more than enough for me. Now I gotta see these guys live…
