Given the Alabama-based band’s tried-and-proven abilities to rock like the sun is never going to rise again and then turn around and play it all raggedy-assed sweet like a Ronnie Lane Valentine, the Dexateens could have easily been some sort of slick Southern Rock gods of the above-ground world if they’d chosen to be.
But then they wouldn’t be the Dexateens, would they? No, they wouldn’t.
Since 1998 the band has dwelled in a place where twang, thrash and the British Invasion all coexist, while a bondo-fendered ’67 GTO and a flying saucer sit on concrete blocks out in front of the trailer. And while the outside world might expect songs about throwing empty Rebel Yell bottles at road signs, the Dexateens offer up center-of-the-soul honesty and insight (often slathered with feedback gravy).
Take the newly-released Sunsphere, an 8-song EP that was actually recorded in a 3-day-long explosion of blistering brilliance in a Birmingham basement back in 2009. Crazy-assed punkbuddy Tim Kerr was on hand while the tape rolled (think sous-chef-with-a-flame-thrower): warts were celebrated; chances were taken; ya-yas were exorcised; and a bushel basketful of 12AX7 and 6L6 tubes no doubt gave their lives to the cause.
The title track refers to an actual monolith that stands outside of Knoxville, TN – a key part of the scenery in Dexateen frontman Elliott McPherson’s crash course in WWII, atomic bomb-building, the 1982 World’s Fair, and hanging with his grandmother when he was six. Combine all that with a pack of snapping/snarling/growling guitars rodeoed around the basement by gusts of bass and walloping drums and you’ve got “Sunsphere” – typical way-deeper-than-you-think Dexateens rock ‘n’ roll.
Click here to read the rest of my Dexateens review on Jambands.com