The Crack Pipes

The Crack Pipes

Snakes in My Veins

Emperor Jones

I usually have my CD player set to count down the life of songs. I like knowing how many minutes and seconds I have left to enjoy or suffer through a particular piece of music. Because of this, I already knew something about Snakes in My Veins before I heard a single note: it’s too long. Sixty minutes of clammy raunch & roll later, I can commend myself on my powers of deduction.

This is ’60s garage rock; the same ubiquitous kind you’ve been exposed to for the past three years. It’s testifying white boy soul with A-string riffs and an almost funky rhythm section. Occasionally, the band steps into other ’60s-centric roles such as the worse-than-Self Portrait Dylan impression of “Super Motel 8,” the superior tremolo soaked “Jawbone Blues” and the epic roadhouse blues of Aretha’s “Save Me.” In the end though, this album is what I always thought a Guess Who album would sound like. Unfortunately, I never owned any of that band’s records, so why would I want this?

Emperor Jones:

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