A potent, Americana-tinged quintet from outta the San Francisco Bay Area, THE ROBBER BARONS summon up an ominously mighty sound from the roots-rock elements on their suitably inflammatory 'Kerosene Communion'.
Ex-Wilco mainstay Jay Bennett has been known to describe the Barons' sound as "rural contemporary", and if you're searching for soundbites then that will do very nicely indeed, for The Robber Barons often hark back to the Godforsaken, Appalachian-style, fire'n'brimstone-spittin' schtick previously pioneered by the likes of 16 Horsepower: in itself a good continent or so removed from the kind of sound you'd expect to encounter from a Californian outfit.
And it makes for an impressive listen, transporting you on an oblivion-bound express to a place where it's not so much fame, fatal fame, but fatal fatal fatalism's that's the attraction. Both the band's twin vocalists Nik Edwards (guitars, banjo, accordion, melodica) and Kevin Johnson (acoustic guitar) sing in wracked, resigned voices and with skilful assistance from guests such as violinist Patti Weiss and Mac Martine's pedal steel, The Robber Barons have it in them to steal Alt.Country riches galore.
If you need proof, then try the double opening KO of 'Still' and 'Slide On A Rail'. With Weiss's wickedly skirling violin (think an Appalachian Dave Swarbrick), Jeff Klingman's menacing snare rattle and the lugubrious vocals, 'Still' soon comes on like Calexico under a stormy sky, while on the battered and bruised 'Slide On A Rail' ("now in dry season, the ground here is soft as a brick/ and I can't help wondrin' how long before I'm lyin' under it") the lure of the grave is nigh on tangible.
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Both of these are compelling listens and there's plenty more to come. Songs like 'Mountain Time' and 'Waxabachie' employ scuttling railroad rhythms and shoot their rock'n'roll through with both roots-y abandon and penetrating darkness; 'Today (Is The Day)' gloriously fuses a heartbroken narrative with a potent gospel undertone and on 'Deguello Waltz' they gradually shape betrayal and redemption into a full-blown epic.
They save arguably the finest moment of all for the last word and 'Bare November Days': all sorrowful violin, dank enigma and a clammy, bare-branch starkness, it perfectly encapsulates the season of death and slow re-birth the song's title suggests. It's a great way to sign off and makes it abundantly clear that The Robber Barons' 'Kerosene Communion' is indeed the sound of a raging creative inferno. Let's hope this baby burns bright for some time yet.
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