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Sunday Night Blackout

Sunday Night Blackout

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Sunday Night Black-out whips out rock ’n’ roll that smells like butt rock and tastes like danger. They’re Iron Maiden processed with Mötorhead—from “Aces High” to “Ace of Spades.” The Seattle-based band probably isn’t concerned about such comparisons to 1980s metal and hair bands, mostly because they play music with just as much unironic dedication, though with their own dirty, garage rawk spin. Johnny Blackout and Omar S. nail almost every wily guitar callisthenic, and even when it gets sloppy it never gets boring, especially with frontman Neil Ofsteel singing like he’s Johnny Thunders fronting AC/DC. Ofsteel languishes in baby-come-aww-n! flourishes and raspy lines like, “My girl is hummin’ in the stereo, she’s sweeter than gypsy wine—she sets me free!”

“Burnout” takes the album on a brief tangent of Dwarves-like gleefulness with, “I got no remorse ringing in my ears and a body count in my wake…” But “Blackout Tonite!” brings it all back to more innocent partying with clap-happy breakdowns, the clink of bottles and drunken chortles. No half-assed vocal snarls, or wimpy guitar solos, or pretentious lyrics here. Just plain rock about sex, drugs and rock ’n’ roll—which is as meta as Sunday Night Blackout gets, thank goodness. (Erika Fredrickson)

Sunday Night Blackout play the Badlander Friday, Aug. 29, at 9 PM with Blood Hot Beat and Reptile Dysfunction. $5.

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