fakejazz.com

The album’s a few years old by now, but Cock of the Rock saw to it that No Doctors’ Hunting Season found life on vinyl, and that seems to be where it thrives best. And since fakejazz never covered the slab, and the lp recently found its way to my promo inbox, it seems just fine that it gets its due on this site now. No Doctors, a Minneapolis->Chicago->San Fran quartet, take on classic rock in a no holds barred mud wrestling match, and wring out the dingiest, bluesy sludge from their conquered quarry. Even those who like their rock dirty might feel the need for a bath after this one, encrusted with a thick layer of grit and static. But the all-out performance and damaged production are a good pair, and one gets the feeling that its all the album’s dungy imperfections that make it what it is. Clean Hunting Season up, and it’d be less remarkable, tighten No Doctors’ wheels, and their ragged stomp would feel far less alive. No Doctors haven’t re-written any books on rock music, but they’ve soiled more than a few dog-eared pages, and pasted their own text over the boring parts. Bluesy garage rock’s been done, many times over, and it’s not all that easy to get excited about much of it these days. But, like the genre or not, No Doctors’ cocksure bombast is decidedly a step up over so much of what swims in that specific sea.

No Doctors at Amazon & Insound