|The Gilded age|
That is if you can ignore their subtle racism towards diesel engines.
I cannot say for certain, and I might be reading too far into it, but there was always a negative connotation for the more modern locomotives.
The first to be on the show was Diesel. Either Ringo Starr or George Carlin, depending on your nationality, referred to Diesel as oily.
Is oily really such a bad thing? So many men, and women, oiled their hair in order to make it shiny, perhaps gilded even.
(NOTE: I love your commuter trains up there. Wonderful.)
The music moves along like a snake. It wriggles and writhes along.
Spartan arrangements and a voice that could convince an Eskimo that a refrigerator would be a good investment dominate the soundscape.
There is a smattering of guitar chords scraping across the tracks which are bolstered by some eerie keyboards and the ever present drums.
If I didn't know better, I would say the drummer wrote the majority of the music on this album. The drums are the only instrument that never stops. More than the backbone, they're the pulse and soul.
The Gilded age reminds me of vintage jazz songs updated for modern listeners. They have the feel of performers telling stories, but they certainly don't sound like the tunes Joe Bonamassa and Beth Hart are going to be playing.
Faithful and adulterous, The Gilded age delivers from start to finish.
Genre: Modern Rock