The Whipsaws: Bona Fide Bar Band

60 Watt Avenue
The Whipsaws
(Shut Eye)

The term “bar band” often carries a negative connotation. It frequently implies that a band has not “made it,” and is a cut below stardom. There certainly have been exceptions to this way of thinking. George Thorogood and the Destroyers, who have performed in a fair number of establishments where alcohol is served, bill themselves as “The World’s Greatest Bar Band.” But there was a day when they experienced much mainstream success.

Of course, “bar band” can be a complimentary description. Thorogood certainly puts in on his T-shirts as a badge of honor. And that’s how it should be applied to The Whipsaws. On their latest disc, “60 Watt Avenue,” the Anchorage, Alaska, four-piece exemplifies the things that are great about great bar bands. Specifically, they turn it up and crank it out, showing the necessary conviction (and volume) to rise above the din of clinking glasses, clattering bottles and constant chatter familiar to anyone who has spent time in a rock club.

Since it’s a studio recording, “60 Watt” isn’t cluttered by all that collateral noise. Instead, it’s chock full of sincere rock music trimmed out with a little bit of country. A bit of research revealed that The Whipsaws’ debut, 2006’s “Ten Day Bender,” was an alt-country record. “60 Watt Avenue” leans hard to the “rock” side of country-rock. Fans of Neil Young, early Son Volt, Uncle Tupelo, The Bottle Rockets, Slobberbone and Drive-By Truckers are likely to be rewarded for seeking out this disc.

It was another connection that sent me looking for this album. After reading that the band backed Tim Easton his new, yet-to-be-released album “Porcupine,” I wanted to get a sense of what might be in store on that disc. If “60 Watt Avenue” is a fair indicator, Easton’s next release will be more rock-oriented than anything he has done in years.

The Whipsaws lay out a mission statement of sorts near the end of the opening track, “60 Watt,” when Evan Phillips sings, “I believe in rock and roll.” They spend the next 45 minutes or so backing it up. They stick to a basic instrumental lineup: Phillips and Aaron Benolkin on guitar, Ivan Molesky on bass and James Dommek Jr. on drums, with Benolkin also providing a little banjo and a bit of pedal steel here and there.

Thematically, the band sticks to common themes delivered in a straightforward fashion. “Jessi Jane” is a galloping shuffle about a girl that got away. “High Tide” is a rocker about life’s ups and downs. The blistering “Bar Scar” and the riff-heavy instrumental “Sinferno” offer plenty of beefy guitar. “The War” is a protest song that delivers firepower of its own. Wah-wah is applied to the aggressive guitar parts, and they draw from the Southern Rock handbook with some harmony guitar lines as well.

The sledgehammer delivery of “The War” and other elements of The Whipsaws’ sound would lead one to believe that they consider Neil Young a kindred spirit. But they save you the trouble of drawing the conclusion. They cover “Mr. Soul,” from Young’s Buffalo Springfield days, and follow it with “Ode to Shakey,” a short, instrumental interlude that is almost certainly an homage to Young’s guitar work (as well as his pseudonym, Bernard Shakey).

The Whipsaws aren’t all blaring guitars and a pounding rhythm section. “Stick Around” and “Amsterdam” show off the band’s softer side, as does the closer, “Seven Long Years.” A harmonica-and-dobro ode to sobriety, it features a guest spot by Easton and sounds as though it was influenced by his songwriting.

The Whipsaws have recently played shows with Easton, and it would be nice to see them play Crazy Horse to his Neil Young sometime soon. But Easton’s presence certainly isn’t necessary. Based on “60 Watt Avenue,” I’d head right out to my local rock club, racket and all, to hear this band play live.