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Be it from age or simple cosmic awareness, somewhere along the path we become less a reflection of the external, our own tiny voices finding strength in some collective subconscious of US, we close our eyes in true Jordan Catalano fashion to open them with a rift unfathomable between what we have become and the slate grey existence we have given every last ounce of energy not to digress into.

 

I’m not an idealist, I’m certainly not delusional, there is nothing “original” to our place in this time; not you, not me, and certainly not US. Socrates took that first sip of hemlock as Kerouac railed on about jazz and madness, it is the same as it ever was, the difference between a wine-bibber and messiah merely comes down to perspective yet with clear eyes and a full heart we know there has, and always will be, this sense of the “genuine” …of the pure. In a way when Dylan wrote, “most of the other performers tried to put themselves across, rather than the song, but I didn’t care about doing that. With me, it was about putting the song across,” he not only spoke of himself but of the place which exists just outside the realm of the perpetual now, that place we call Rock N’ Roll, in that place, as peaceful as it is chaotic, we find Gross Pointe.

 

Chicago natives swimming in the same cesspool of filth and angst as fellow altruistic revivalist Flesh Panthers and Son of a Gun , Gross Pointe’s second EP Bad Seed (Hozac Records) show a band beginning to ascend above all comparisons to prove the ground work Jay Reatard and Mark Sultan laid out in the arms-reach of history was not wasted; their homage to Brooklyn in ’77, their belief that over-production and single-serving capitalistic ambition was to be despised has come full circle. This latest EP is as much a statement of self-worth from some sweaty dudes in a van as it is case-and-point of the chickens coming home to roost.

 

The album opens with the title track as autobiographical as it is a backhanded spit in the face of an alternate reality in which none of us have ever felt as if we belong. Under compulsion and purpose and guilt the distortion takes our patronus shape of blues driven familiarity while the vocals make an honest attempt at subtle aggression, more endearing, comely, than anything else. There is nothing contrived, no greater goal than to place a humble offering at the feet of subsistence; a hymn for the masses, our masses, to collectively sing. The same could be said for the EP in general.

 

 

Bad Seed in its four song glory is a gnarly experience and yet with true addict form we are left jonesing for more. It has been two years since showing up on the scene, it is time we demand a full length already! If that is the only irritation to find with these dudes then they are more than alright.

 

In a world where we readily pontificate over the necessity of genuine outbursts of talent, Gross Pointe are a band deserving of our rallying behind, they, such as US, deserve more than the timid half-hearted awareness honest art often receives. If this is your first experience with this three piece make the effort to check out what they have conjured already, they are a band as powerful in presence as they are important to our unspoken ethos.

 

Gross Pointe – Bandcamp | Facebook | Hozac Records

 

Jay Armstrong is one of our newest contributors to ANON Magazine. He writes with an honest and knowledgeable voice and runs Heycoolkid!, a means of changing and highlighting good dudes creating unpretentious incredible art that perpetually go unnoticed.