If nothing else, New York's Endless Boogie will go down in the annals of rock history for laying claim to one of the most appropriate band names of all time. Frontman Paul Major (aka Top Dollar) have a few things they do very well, so fans will be happily unsurprised to hear that Long Island, their third proper release for No Quarter, is very much an Endless Boogie record. Which is to say that it's another scummy, riff-stacked, delightfully boneheaded affair.
Endless Boogie tend to go where the spirit moves them-- they're known for unpredictable gigging, marathon sets, and hard to find 12"s-- and they've earned the right to be comfortably stubborn as Major approaches his 60th year. "Ain't no guest list, no free drinks," he snarls on the Radio Birdman-like wailer "General Admission". "No free rides, I hope to see you outside." Long Island operates strictly on Endless Boogie's terms, though at 80 minutes, listener fatigue is a real danger. By the time you're through with the incredibly fun "Taking Out the Trash", the realization that you have a whole hour left to go sets in pretty hard.
But Long Island knows its audience. The repetitive, fairly simple templates give Major and guitarist Jesper Eklow room to play around, and they do in a fashion as elegant as it is sloppy. Even if you find yourself nodding in and out of these infinite, often fluid stretches of psychedelia, garage, and scorched, Southern-fried stoner rock, there are frequent enough bursts of extra gnarly guitar work, or some especially tasty groove, to snap you out of a haze.
There are also some real tunes here. Opener "The Savagist" is the sound of your favorite local go-nowhere bar band getting to the bottom of a bottle of absinthe, with Major growling all over it like Screamin' Jay Hawkins at his most pig-snort feverish. It's the best of three songs that go well over the 10-minute mark, and while it may seem blasphemous to suggest as much of a band like this, the shorter, tighter tracks suit them best. The squalling "Imprecations" plays like the soundtrack to Easy Rider if it starred your drunk, unemployed uncle, and the parched, gritty "Occult Banker" screams like a man in the deepest ethers of a Guatemalan Insanity Pepper trip.
The production is appropriately seedy, showcasing equipment that sounds like it's been on its last legs for a few decades, and when the band cooks, they really cook. Long Island probably isn't going to win any new fans for Endless Boogie, but their strengths are on display regardless.
