Blaine Duncan & The Lookers

Thank the lord for Blaine Duncan & The Lookers. Because, finally, I have a reason to be excited about new music.

Let's face it: there ain't much to get excited about in the country/Southern rock music scene these days.

Mainstream radio hasn't put out anything that can even remotely be called country since Shania Twain burst on the scene in the '90s and with the ever-graceful presence of the angel of death. Yeah, there are a couple of mainstays that you can't deny (Alan Jackson and George Strait, namely); but, it ain't country anymore -- it's pop, plain and simple. The Nashville suits are always looking for the next Rascal Flatts or Taylor Swift. Shooter Jennings said it best: "They built Music City by sacrificing soul."

And rock radio... well, has there ever really been a place for Southern rock in the mainstream? Quick, name me five Southern rock acts who really transcended boundaries and rose above the regional biases. Skynyrd, The Allman Brothers, ZZ Top... umm, that's it, right? Maybe there's not room for simple songs about life. Or maybe if you don't wear eyeliner and shirts four-times too small with a scarf you don't get played. I don't know the rules, I just know they're stupid.

So we're forced to look beyond what's given to us. We're forced (although a good number of us, like myself, go willingly) into smoke-filled, dimly-lit bars to hear real music.

And it is there that you find Blaine Duncan & The Lookers, as sure and dependable as any band out there.

Their live shows are unmistakable. The three-guitar melodic attack of Duncan, David Phillips and Ham Bagby leads the way, striking a fine balance between boogie-down licks and rock-fist thrusting solos. The rhythm section of Kendall Rich on bass (a spot formerly filled by Ryan Akers, who appears on the album as both bassist and co-songwriter) and Mikey Oswalt on drums pounds out toe-tapping beats one after the other, with the steady ferocity of coal miners doing their jobs day in and day out. Then there's Duncan, who leads them all with his "aw-shucks" charisma -- always starting out shows looking almost nervous on stage, then erupting into a flurry of Pete Townsend-esque guitar strums and rally-leading shouts.

But the translation from live performance to CD is where the band's magnificence really shines. The songs are put together with an intricate tightness, something you can really appreciate as a music fan -- especially when Nathan Pitts lends a hand on pedal steel and banjo. But at the same time they have a carefree attitude, almost as if there's a subliminal message hidden somewhere that tells you to crank your stereo, roll down your windows and rock into the breeze.

The songwriting is absolutely superb. It's simple and thought-provoking without tripping over itself trying to be too complex. There's no pandering to any formulas, just an honest freshness. There are no stereotypical "I'm from the country" anthems, no cookie-cutter love songs.

There's just the boys in the band and their music. Boys who don't take themselves too seriously -- as evidenced by songs like "I Don't Smoke Dope With Satan (Since He Left Me at the Mall)" -- but still know how to settle in and delve into heartfelt efforts like "The Death" and "Virginia (State Park)" with a seamless ease.

In the end, you won't want to take this one out of your CD player until you wear it out. The play count on your iPod will climb and climb until you know every word by heart. You'll eagerly anticipate their every show until you realize the soul Shooter Jennings was talking about may have been sacrificed in Music City, but it still lives strong in bands like Blaine Duncan & The Lookers.