These days, many artists seem obsessed with augmenting existing genres, fusing sounds and styles, or even trying to conjure new ones out of thin air. But, you can make a good argument that rock ‘n’ roll had found its final, perfect form. You can debate the point long into the night, or you could play Rock & Roll Fantasy by The Fats. That will tell you everything that you need to know.

From the raw opening chords of Hellhound to the last fading note of the title track, which puts the album to bed, Rock & Roll Fantasy is a celebration of everything that the style was, is, and can ever need to be. It is a collection of kicking, foot-on-the-monitor, fist-in-the-air anthems. And it is fantastic.

From the grooviest twelve-bar boogie to the sleaziest garage rock sound, from the punkiest party track to the grittiest mutant blues salvo, it is the last word in rock and roll. It doesn’t try to be anything it isn’t, no airs, no graces, no pretence, just good time music delivered with swagger and attitude.

It’s cool; it’s infectious…it’s rock and roll. It’s as simple as that!

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Musician, scribbler, historian, gnostic, seeker of enlightenment, asker of the wrong questions, delver into the lost archives, fugitive from the law of averages, blogger, quantum spanner, left footed traveller, music journalist, zenarchist, freelance writer, reviewer and gemini. People have woken up to worse.

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