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Bob City | album | review | rock | Lollipop
by Brian Varney
In general, I tend to shy away from writing reviews of local bands. Most such acts never make it past the "local band" level, and usually for good reason. Going out to see a local band when you've got nothing better to do on a Friday night is one thing... spending time and effort writing about them is quite another.
Still, all great bands come from somewhere, so there's bound to be the odd gem in the great mass of average (and below) bands populating the town where you live.
The town I live in is Columbus, Ohio. Like most cities, it's full of bands, most of whom are not worth mentioning. Like most college towns, its local scene is distinctly lacking in bands who are dedicated to playing THE ROCK. This is bad because I enjoy rock music. Every now and then, however, along comes a great band whose presence on the local scene makes you feel momentarily proud to be from your city. The last time this happened in Columbus with was the arrival of the New Bomb Turks in the early '90s - the last time, that is, until now.
Since I'm sure you haven't heard of them, let me tell you right now that Bob City are poised to become the kings of the nighttime world. If this record were on Sub Pop instead of a smallish local label, you would've already heard their name a million times and the critical backlash would've already begun. However, unless you're either from Columbus or happened to catch one of the handful of shows they opened for Nashville Pussy, you haven't heard them.
Try to imagine four young men with their hormones set to "overdrive" and a record collection consisting entirely of the first four AC/DC albums, the first five ZZ Top albums, the first two Rose Tattoo albums, and Motörhead's Ace of Spades, Overkill, and Bomber LPs. In other words, "attack, attack, attack!" Kinda sounds like Nashville Pussy, right? Well, imagine Nashville Pussy minus the gimmicky bullshit (and, unfortunately, the hot chicks) but with two great guitarists who play like they're connected at the hip and can peel off the hot riffs with an ease that borders on criminal, a bludgeoning rhythm section, a stupendous singer (who often wears a hat that says "Tits"), and great songs. You're not going to get very far playing this sort of music if you can't bang a tune together (see Nashville Pussy's failure), but Bob City, like the bands mentioned above, are more than capable tunesmiths. Considering the band's relative youth, their ability to write anthems-in-waiting is quite startling.
Anyway, this CD is seven songs long, clocks in a little over 26 minutes, and more than does their awe-inspiring live show justice. After a recent show, Mr. Regala commented that "Bob City are a fucking rock'n'roll juggernaut." As a one-line summation of Bob City, that's better than anything I could say, so I'll leave you with that.