Rob Duncan (ex of Eddy and the T-Bolts) has just released an album that sounds as if it was distilled from my own record collection.
In many ways it is a fucked up and ragged homage to the US of A.
A debt paid in full to the rock and rollers, the country balladeers, the girl groups of the sixties and the ground breaking
A glass raised in honour to all that our colonial cousins have given us.
At times the shadow of Johnny Thunders looms large as Rob tip toes through the glass carpeted and needle strewn gutters of the bowery tipping his hat to his influences, and then without missing a beat he is chasing after a blue collared Springsteen to bellow his admiration at.
And just as you begin to wrap your head around that change in direction there he goes again charging off full pelt in another to snatch at something else, a hint of Neon Boys here, some Guns and Roses there, the Dogs D’Amour of the UK making a sly appearance, a bit of Dylan, a taste of the Ronettes, and it goes on and on.
Like a kid let loose in a candy store you get the impression he wants it all, and he’s making a credible attempt and grabbing everything in sight.
Those who were fans of the releases by Eddy and the T-Bolts will not be disappointed in this next chapter for Rob.
The humour the band were known for still threads its way through the material, and as an added bonus he is also very obviously relishing being able to spread his wings a bit and deliver more than expected.