By Isa Jones
By Mary Willson
By Brian Turk
By Drew AIles
By Taylor Boylston
By Bree Davies
By Emerald O'Brien
And lest it be forgotten, he is also an amp-smashin' rock-and-roller of the highest order. For the past five years, he and his fellow 'Jets--currently, guitarist/vocalist Jerome J. Jerome, guitarist/vocalist Mr. Hardwick, bassist J.T. Sharp and drummer J.R. Collins--have been banging out some of the wiliest whiskey-drenched babble on either side of the Mason-Dixon line. Pay the Deuce, the group's new salvo on Estrus Records, continues in this proud tradition. Produced by garage-rock guru Tim Kerr (Big Boys, Poison 13, Lord High Fixers), the disc is a 35-minute slab of clamorous boogie during which the quintet distills the misanthropic thump of the Stooges, the dope-clouded politics of the MC5 and the ghostly delta growl of John Lee Hooker into a ten-gallon tub of rebel whoop-ass that even Granny Clampett would have enjoyed guzzling.
Many of the CD's twelve tunes have a punk-rock core that hearkens back to the band's days with the noted indie Sympathy for the Record Industry. "Punkinheaded Motherfucker," "61 Blues" and "Rich Man's War," in particular, pack enough firepower to level anything on the Saints' first platter. Yet Deuce also boasts an undeniably bluesy edge: "Ten High," Deuce's last track, could almost pass for an old Mountain outtake, while the band's cover of "Going Down," penned by the late, great Stax artist Don Nix, is as soulful as it is bombastic. Weise, an avid album collector, says he wanted to dust the latter tune off and revamp it for the Nineties. "That song has been around forever," he explains. "The earliest version that I know is the one recorded by Freddy King. That's where we first learned of it. But I've read that Led Zeppelin used to play it live from time to time. It was a pretty standard rock and blues cover for a few years, and then it just sort of dropped off. So we thought we'd bring it back and torque it up a little. It worked out real well."
In addition to these influences, Pay the Deuce possesses a decidedly Southern-rock feel. Such a description is apt to send most hipsters running for their Makers LPs. But instead of rejecting the tag, the Cheetah embraces it.
"Absolutely we're a Southern-rock band," he declares. "In fact, we've been talking to a friend of ours who works at Capricorn Records, the label that handles the new reunion lineup of Lynyrd Skynyrd, because we've been trying to pass on some of our records to those guys. I was telling this fella that whether they like us or not, they should know that we're their bastard offspring. I mean, we're writing the rock tunes with the three guitars blazing. The only difference is they were around in the early Seventies, so they took their cues from bluegrass and the Rolling Stones and some of the blues down here.
"But we're twenty years after that," he goes on. "The whole punk thing has hit America two or three times, along with heavy metal and everything else. So we have, of course, incorporated all that into our music, too. There's just as much Black Sabbath in our music as Lynyrd Skynyrd."
Unfortunately, the Quadrajets have something else in common with Lynyrd Skynyrd: personal tragedy. Last November, barely twenty years after Skynyrd lead singer Ronnie Van Zant died in a plane crash, Quadrajets drummer Kevin Young, aka K.Y. Van Zant, was driving to a club with a friend when the vehicle they were in was broadsided by an oncoming dump truck. Young's friend walked away from the accident unharmed, but Young suffered a broken backbone that left him paralyzed from the shoulders down. "It's a rough thing, but he's doing okay now," Weise reports about the drummer. "He gets around in a wheelchair using a joystick. He's staying with his family and he's planning on staying involved with music through computers and things like that. Actually, we're recording a new record at the end of the year, and he's going to help us with the production and mixing, because he's still got his ears, and he's got about the best sense of tempo and rhythm of anybody I know. He doesn't have to worry about practicing anymore. He can just tell us when we're fucking up and keep us in line.