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Ford Supersonic
Aunt Bettys
Marathon Records
17 tracks/60:04
One of the alternative underground's most prolific music-makers, Michael Knott never stops. He's a music machine; a factory of fun; a full-on assembly line of top-notch rock 'n roll. Add the chops-to-make-veins-pop of guitarist Andrew Carter, drummer Chuck Cummings, and bassist Brian Doidge, and the stereo is a-thumpin'. Thank Jeff Elbel and his little label that could (Marathon Records), for releasing these demos lost in the cracks of the Aunt Bettys' failed major label debut.
But don't let the word "demos" throw you off - this album walks all over the self-titled Elektra Records release. A perfect melding of the pop guitar muscle of Everclear, the whine and attitude of Jane's Addiction, and the steady-as-she-goes rhythms and vocals of Tom Petty ... These are the radio hits that never were. You die-hard fans should be stoked, because you get them all to yourself; no corporate radio station is going to rub them into your ears ad nauseum, and you won't have to sound like a loser by whining, "I was a fan before they got popular..." It's too bad for the hardworking Knott, though.
Why is Ford Supersonic better? Because, while the self-titled release was good, it was too obvious that Knott and Co. thought they were already big rock stars. It was too bombastic, too over-the-top, too ego-exuding, whereas Ford Supersonic is closer to the Mike Knott we know and love - humble, but ingrained with the true rock spirit, a soul that swings, strums, sobs, and sees music in every step of life, no matter what the pay is.
These might be demos, but the production is just right; crisp but imperfect - the sound of real music flowing from human hands and voices, not the product of big studio overkill. After the thirteen new tracks (including a pop reworking of "Rock Stars on H"), surprise, surprise ... live tracks appear to make you cry, if you never had a chance to ever see the band live: there are distortion-on renditions of "Two-Timin' Jack" and "Rock Stars on H" sandwiched between the beginning and end of a deep-voiced solo-acoustic tune.
The easily offended may still find a few lyrics to frown at, but Knott is still singing his quirky, dysfunctional, "what-the-hell-is-he-talking-about?" true-life tall tales, with the few nuggets of metaphoric truth to be found shining all the more for it. Too bad there's no lyric sheet.
Whether you're a fan or not, this is just a great album, possibly one of the best albums to ever go unsung and unheard. Rock and roll, baby.
4.5 tocks (out of 5)
- Josh Spencer