Here’s more proof Nashville, Tenn., is saving rock ‘n’ roll one band at a time: The Weeks.
The mostly Mississippi quintet moved to Nashville a few years ago after putting out a few promising albums, signed with Kings of Leon imprint Serpents and Snakes Records, and have been polishing the music and enhancing the songs on “Dear Bo Jackson” till they shine.
The only real knock against them was that lead singer Cyle Barnes sounded waaaayyyy too much like KOL frontman Caleb Followill. “Dear Bo Jackson” mostly dispenses with that issue with 11 flavor-packed songs that show a band unafraid to embrace — and update — its Southern rock roots with the kind of love that’s mostly missing from today’s scene.
Five or six listens in and “Dear Bo Jackson” is still offering new delights from keys, pedal steel and strings that were initially obscured by the country funky, groove-oriented heart of each song. The Weeks rocked harder on earlier albums, but show they’ve grown into a band with the ability to stun on slow, emotional tracks like “Ain’t My Stop,” a song that stays with you awhile, “Gobi Blues” and “Chickahominy.”
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