Prison

Prison has always carried on a kernal of the psych-blooze shagginess that was at the core of Endless Boogie. With Paul Major as the connective tissue between the two, it’s hard not to feel some sinuous overlap, but in many ways Prison reaches further into the frayed ends of the psycho-kinetic jungle. The kerosene chug of the Boogie is built into the bones, but Prison are by and large extended much further out into the cosmos. The latest record sets aside the push and pull of their Upstate / Downstate records for something a bit more monolithic. Two side-long jams dig into the parched exhaust of truck rumble on the BQE, visible right outside of the band’s Sunset Park studio. Driven down by white line fever and coiled around the crank of the eighteen wheeler wonders that shook the studio, the two sides here are relentless, wracked in rhythm, and coursing with an energy that’s somewhere between stoned seance and fevered mania.

The record untethers the band from the short-form temperaments that penned them in on past releases, a wide open road that mirrors their live energy. “Sunrise Highway” throbs with an adrenaline pulse before the mid-section unspools into ecstatic storms of psychedelic haze. The band rides the edge of the tempest before diving back into the froth and fray with renewed hunger. The second side eases in; dipping over the horizon with the patter of drums and the rev of amps. The band backs harder into the blues edge on “Sunset Park,” tangling the twin guitars until Majors picks up the pulpit once more, siphoning the storm out of the ensuing ramble and lashing the speakers with his oil-slick growl. The band thrives in the open spaces, clearly vets of the stage and at home letting the tapes run until they can’t take much more singe. If you’re bummed that the Boogie’s been quiet of late, look no further than Big Rigs on the BQE, a heady masterpiece that’s chewin’ minds up in its tires .