LP reviewed in Sounds, 6th March, 1982

THE FLESHTONES ‘Roman Gods’ (IRS SP70018)**** WHEN IT comes to simmering, compact rhythm and blues The Fleshtones are there, with this difference. They are of the Ramones generation, not the river delta or pub rock, and they have a firm grasp of the dynamic that drove such deans of the genre as The Yardbirds.

Believing implicitly in the one man/three chords axiom that founded the last high energy boom, The Fleshtones have matured considerably since the rough-hewn hoedown of the recently released ‘Blast Off’ cassette album, not running wildly like the proverbial bulls in the china shop, more inspecting the merchandise and doing some selective shopping.

Channelling their endearing chaos into a new, more binding manifesto of neo-garage punk that has roots planted deep in 1966, ‘Roman Gods’ is the classic example of the riffs of the fathers being visited on the sons.

Strolling in with surfin’ footfalls, a fuzztone worming its way through the nerve-endings of the song, ‘The Dreg — Fleshtone ’77’ is a good indication of things to come.

‘I’ve Gotta Change My Life’ follows, consolidating The Fleshtones ‘garage for sale’ mentality, a visitation of the first calibre that has restrained, evenly-spread guts that made the bands’ long gone mentors great.

The Fleshtones | Roman Gods | (IRS) 1982

Simplicity is the clarion call, a twisted vibrato arm, harmonica and a solitary glittering sax cameo on the soulful oldie ‘Ride Your Pony’ the only real diversions.

Of course there looms the threat of staleness after the basic premise has been established, but it’s understood with The Fleshtones and their ilk that a prerequisite to mass adulation is an empathy with their choice of style.

The Fleshtones | Roman Gods | (IRS) 1982

Sombre, loosely-jointed lopes like ‘Shadow-line’ and turkey-trotting party kicks like ‘Hope Come Back’ makes ‘Roman Gods’ low on contrast, high on energy and highest on consistent dedication to the cause and effect.

Huffing, puffing, blowing the house down, The Fleshtones don’t mince their words or music. ‘Roman Gods’ indeed. They have enough heart to repel critical accusations of datedness, and in any case the group doesn’t strike as deeply concerned about contemporary relevance.

False prophets beware. When the cards are down The Fleshtones have a winning hand and, with further judicious playing, their next album should be due for a place in the garage punk Parthenon post haste. (Ralph Traitor)

The Fleshtones – ‘Roman Gods’ (IRS) | Just when I’d given up on the guitar, bass and drums routine, along come the Fleshtones. Thrills without frills in the 60s school of psychedelic garage rock but performed with enough emotion and energy to make it worthwhile.

Dirty, fuzzy bass, backing vocals reduced to chants, two note guitar solos – those excitable boys from L.A. combine limitless power with humour, particularly in the breathtaking “R-I-G-H-T-S” and in their use of a funky sitar as they demolish the Lee Dorsey hit “Ride Your Pony”. (8 out of 10) (Smash Hits)