I was up in my room, pacing back and forth, to and fro, ogling a bootleg poster of Nena and humming “99 Luft Balloons On The Wall.” I was down to three Luft Balloons, wondering what I was going to hum next. I started getting nervous as a massive constricting pain began balling up inside my head. Oh god, I realized, it was that time of the month again. My mental period was due, my ears were swelling, and here I was fresh outta aural tampons as a result of the scare because of that new disease the doctors just discovered, toxic sonic syndrome--that crippling affliction that makes you wanna wear ties, listen to old Wayne Newton albums, and root around in the mud for sacred truffles to place at the feet of Brooke Shields. As the pain began to get worse I began to get restless and as the restlessness grew into a thing of beauty, I decided to wrist shot a record onto my $200 Sears Combination Eight-Track Stereo Cassette Radio Low-Yield Nuclear Device and Cigarette Lighter. Now I could really enjoy the pain of restlessness by listening to the Restless and their debut album, Restless.
Now, restless as defined in the dictionary means, “without quiet, repose, or rest; incapable of or opposed to resting and relaxing; never still or motionless.” Add to this the word explosive and you’ve got yourself an encapsulated description of what these guys--who hail from Buffalo, NY, where rock’s holy ghost can still be seen titupping down the streets of the night with a bottle of Molson’s Golden in one hand and a ghetto blaster in the other--sound like.
Sure, you could sit back and make all the damn comparisons you want as to who they sound like, but so what? At this point in rock’n’roll time you can do that with just about every new band that comes along. They’re all derivative, it’s just a matter of whether or not they’re derivative of bands like the early Stones, the NY Dolls or Iggy Pop--which the Restless are--or bands like Chicago, ELO, or (excuse me while I put a finger down my throat ala Joan Rivers) Yes.
From the first chunka-chunka rhythms of “She’s So Fine,” you know you’re hearing something special, something that goes beyond the usual nova-burst excitement of a band recording their first album, something possessing a confident edge, something called rock’n’roll.
“I Wanna Know” is the single off the album and it’s a fine showcase of their talent, not as exciting as “She’s So Fine,” which oughta be the chart chomper when it’s released, but certainly good enough to get bongoed to. The band’s most ambitious effort is “Wildcall,” hookathon of major proportions. It’s the kind of song that stays with you for days and days--I actually found myself humming it at the supermarket the other.
About the only thing I can honestly say in closing is that it is certainly nice to be enthusiastic about a band again. Look into the Restless and you too can be standing on the edge with rock’s holy ghost, passing the Molson’s and glomming onto the innocence of new blood.
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