
By Pete Donahue
Some music fans and critics argue free downloads lessen listening experiences, that music offered to anybody free of charge must not be worth paying for in the first place. But I think a majority of music followers would disagree with such a notion that “free” equals “bad.”
In just the past few weeks, we have seen two notable albums released for free: Eric and Magill’s All Those I Know and Yellow Ostrich’s The Mistress. Given the quality of these albums, I don’t feel either could be classified as “cheap” or “inferior” when compared to music only available for purchase. Both released are very good and at least worthy of a focused listen. The artists display the notion that good music speaks for itself and proves its tremendous worth regardless of price. And who doesn’t love free things?
A few months ago, I stumbled upon a new band from New York City called the Rassle. Formed by members of other Big Apple bands I like – Blair and Reed Van Nort of the now-defunct Young Lords, and ex-Virgins drummer Erik Ratensperger – the Rassle is offering their debut EP for free on its website. I won’t pretend there aren’t countless links on the Internet to countless files of free music; if all this free music feels a little overwhelming at times, have some faith. I did, and for the first time in a very, very long time I got the feeling that I had discovered something that could be my new favorite band. Not a flavor of the week, not just a decent enough tune to kick around in my head when my mind is idle, but a band that has sauntered right into my meager list of contemporary favorites.
Though only four songs long, the EP makes a rather bold statement considering their Big Apple roots. While most New York bands appear to follow the trend of trying very hard not to follow any trends, the Rassle displays their rock and roll sound for anybody up for a listen and doesn’t apologize for the obvious. Four good-time rock and roll songs rooted so firmly in classic guitar music that it’s almost laughable how familiar the sound is.
Shades of glam groups like T. Rex and Slade are present – Blair’s voice a nasally howl in the vein of Marc Bolan, while Reed’s wild guitars soar just like all of Jimmy Lea and Noddy Holder’s best songs. The sneering swagger of seminal punk bands like the Sex Pistols and the finer moments of the Rolling Stones’ trashy takes on blues-rock are also present. There’s even a penchant for sing-a-long anthems on songs like “Born Free” that’s comparable to the early days of U2 and the Clash. It’s all right there in front of you, laid out unapologetically, ready for you take it for what it is.
While pre-existing New York bands may have set a precedence for rock and roll pretension, it’s hard to find any with the Rassle. Who can’t relate to the sentiments of songs like “Celebrate the Days,” where Blair calls out “Hallelujah, celebrate the days if it’s all you got!,” or “Full Speed Ahead (FSA)” (I’ve been rich and I’ve been poor/Ain’t no use in keepin’ score)? “Wild Ones” shows hints of Springsteen’s nod to the working class: “Where I come from, you don’t give up/Every day is a diamond in the rough.” It might not be the most marketable and/or trending lyrical topic, but it gets the job done.
I wouldn’t be surprised to see the Rassle’s debut EP panned by any number of music news outlets. I envision hearty doses of lazy journalism, writing off the band as a Free Energy copy (or even lazier, a minor league Strokes), while others may load their reviews with rhetoric simply to demonstrate how well the reviewer can dance around the phrase “it’s not Radiohead or Animal Collective, so don’t bother.”
The Rassle is from New York City and some adjectives you will not see associated with its music is “lo-fi,” “ambient,” “shoegazy,” “chill,” “challenging,” “towering,” “immersive,” “African,” “harmonious,” and “tribal.” The Rassle is not bedroom pop, chillwave, shitgaze, synth-pop, psychedelic, folk-rock or post-punk.
Take the Rassle for what it is and just listen. You can do whatever you want – it doesn’t cost anything.
Download: The Rassle