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JOY
Under The Spell Of Joy

Tee Pee (2014)
Rating: 6.5/10

I’m not going to lie; when I see the words “blues” or “psychedelic” used in conjunction with contemporary hard rock bands I’m always concerned that I’m going to be bombarded by another tiresome tirade of stoned, 70s-styled triteness. This category boasts so many ordinary, nostalgia-obsessed bands that I was almost dreading listening to Joy.

So, a few listens down the line and it’s safe to say that this cast of San Diego-based sun-drenched cowboys somewhat straddles the line of the psychedelically predictable and the kaleidoscopically half-decent. MC5, Jimi Hendrix, Cream, blah blah blah, y’know the score – fuzzed out wailing vocals, cosmic riffage soaked in a purple haze and a tumbling percussive element to provide extra acid-drenched, star-gazing robustness.

It’s free, rarely fancy and as varying as a trip, but like so many bands of this ilk Joy do not necessarily live up to their moniker. However, in spurts of sunshine they do occasionally bless the soul and the ears with their maniacal sweatiness, nowhere more evident than on the screamin’ blue jean cacophony that is ‘Miles Away’; a hot-bed of orgasmic riffs and almost distant yelps.

Hey, it’s as if Joy have revisited the 1969 Woodstock Festival in a time machine and stolen some of the best bits of varying sets and thrown them all into their own camper van of celestial grooviness. It’s not original by any means, but it sums up the modern day’s obsession with booze-swilling, retro rock flared up from its trousers to its beards and more than happy to swagger in adorned with tassels and a ‘tache. Yep, it’s retro rock through and through, like some frivolous molten soundtrack to the late 60s and early 70s and mixed by Astra guitarist Brian Elis, who puts his own sheen of staleness on this derivative pile of fiery mush.

As each track stumbles out of the studio and into the baking sun I’m reminded as to why this chaotic brand of nostalgia was only great in the rare instance of artists such as the aforementioned Hendrix, Cream etc. A touch over-indulgent, the likes of ‘Confusion’ revel in that sort of spontaneous jamming quality, whereas ‘Evil’ takes a steady toke on its pipe of peace and lowers the tone as a blues-soaked, burlesque sweat-lodge of grime and neon lights.

Yeah, it’s all very atmospheric but it hardly makes me want to revisit the 70s, which would eventually succumb to the dreary slog of prog rock, and as every distorted solo attempts to work its way through the mire of psychedelia it soon becomes apparent that Joy are just like the rest. But if retro rock is your thing then you may indeed work up a sweat during the bluesy trudge of ‘One More Time’, or indeed relax in the jangling twang of ‘Death Hymn Blues’ with its watery vocal effects and evocative, worming flute.

Of course, it’s not strictly a metal album – in fact, far from it – but with old dogs such as Hendrix and Cream influencing not just a generation but nations, Joy’s debut album is one that grows on me but simply lacks the unfamiliarity to excite. More a case of less cheer than Blue Cheer!

Neil Arnold

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