Perhaps now more than usual, we could sorely use a garage rock record whose emphasis on lurid fun doesn’t sacrifice depth. Step forward Ron Gallo, formerly of Philadelphians Toy Soldiers (nope, us neither), now residing in Nashville. He and two band members on bass and drums combine the sound of an excellent night out with songs about scary girlfriends, monsters who drop cigarette ash on babies’ heads (Why Do You Have Kids?), buying eyeballs and, on Kill the Medicine Man, chemical distractions. It gets better with every play, mixing punk with glam with fuzz guitar, recalling everything from the Rolling Stones to Jack White. It is just heavy enough, and it is also meta, as when Gallo deconstructs musicianly self-absorption on Poor Traits of the Artist or the emasculation of the underground in All the Punks Are Domesticated. Tick.
