Suck

Long Way Home

Trouble Man

Let Me Be

After All

Don't Fuck With Me

Tainted

In The Dark

Ridin' On A Train

It's All Over

While John Doe has matured gracefully into a laid-back state of discontent, it is his early compositions with Exene Cervenka that most of his California disciples emulate. For most of us, sex and dying in the high society remains the embodiment of the rock ethos, so it's unfair to moan about the endless proliferation of such dark alley love songs -- but it's also time to stop pretending that the subject matter is edgy. Songs about sex and hookers and drugs are no longer "punk"; it's what the kids expect. 
Andy Bartel and Eddie Fritz, the songwriters behind Slojack, are the rare subversive element in California's crop of Doe-eyed Americana purveyors. These men of tattoos and roots rock swagger attack its gang-imagery-weaned audience with tenderhearted tears and love songs to guys named Romeo. While their tunes sound like workhorse numbers by the Cramps ("Disagreeable") and Soul Distortion ("Someday the Rain"), they have an ultra-sensitive gay perspective ("How can I convince you / Every strange embrace / Only makes / My heart break even more") that makes initial spins utterly shocking. You get to the surge of their guitars, expecting the drums to subconsciously pound liquor into you -- but instead, you're flooded with images of shoulders wet from tears and caring too much. You even get "The Rainbow Bridge", a Prince-like afterlife number, where the dead are paid with respect and love, not drug metaphors. When you're accustomed to bands in this genre being infatuated with Haggard and Cash for their cred-enhancing jail time rather than their spiritual awakenings, it throws you for a loop when one asks, "Will this world make us cry before we finally grow strong?" 
Slojack are not the first band to make a song that's sensitive or gay-themed, but they're one of very few willing to deliver such material to an audience that's clearly expecting something else. Bartel and Fritz are legitimate rebels who refuse to give lazy ears the recycled debauchery they want, and who say whatever the fuck crosses their minds. They're perhaps a bit too forthcoming about the frequency of their tearful outbursts, but many girls and guys will relate, and be impressed. 
-- Theodore Defosse - Splendid E-zine
