BIG ASS TRUCK
The Rug (Terminus)
Reviewed by DJ Johnson

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Well, it's no secret how I feel about Big Ass Truck. I've reviewed all but one of their CDs and thus far have only suggested they work on two rough spots while still drooling all over the work in general, I've interviewed guitarist/vocalist Steve Selvidge and, over his stunned protestations, called them the best band on the planet. Hey, even I admit I was just a little excited when I said that. They're obviously not the best band on the planet. They're just one of them.

Ah, to be in Memphis where this band can be seen live on a regular basis. Forget the rest of the scene! Gimme those musical chameleons who are always a little brighter colored than what they're standing on at any given moment. Through their career they have covered Memphis soul, chicken' picken' country, psychedelia, tweeners of all kinds, and the most powerful funk-rock this side of... Well, I was trying to think of what else kicked my ass like "Theem From" or "Li'l Tico" from Kent, but nothing does, so skip it. No comparisons. They have two guitars chopping funky, bass as bad as it gets, drums that dig for every accent, keys that fill all the gaps, and their secret weapon, one of the most creative turntable men to scratch it up anywhere. Nobody sounds like them because the moment somebody starts to try, they change the sound. The sound of Kent (fun-fun-FUNKY) morphed into the sound Who Let You In Here (a more eclectic mix with an emphasis on rock), and now BAT morphs once again for The Rug, a haunting collection of tunes that often skate along the edge of trance, with more emphasis on hypnotic grooves and synths than usual but plenty of that BAT in the face to keep you alert.

If the debut album on Upstart hadn't been a collection of songs recorded over a long period, it would have to be considered their experimental album, but it was and so it isn't, and so this one is. Follow? Put on the headphones and all will be revealed. There are more sounds and ideas taking shape on The Rug than on all the previous albums put together. Those of you who require a perfectly formed song, structured to the Nth degree, will be best served to keep listening to Kent. This ain't Kent. This feels like one long aural piece (though it's nine) in which the music is down-tempo, the vocals are sometimes audible, sometimes chopped to bits by distortion and a spinning Leslie speaker, and Colin Butler's scratching and samples tie nothing together. Instead, they add scenery to wonder at as you float by, as if he knew tying it together would ruin it. The Rug is best as it is: laid out for you to explore on your own.

© 2001 - DJ Johnson