Hand-tossed New York pizza is served traditionally with a specially blended, highly guarded-in-secrecy sauce and topped with a healthy dose of mozzarella cheese. The wedge of delight is easily folded and shoved down your gullet. Feel it as it slides over your pallet barely touching your incisors, molars, and eye teeth.
Standing on any New York street corner chewing out a rhythm on the delectable hand-rolled dough as taxis zoom by blaring horns and yelling at anything that moves -- or doesn't, for that matter. You are lost in the fog of high carb bliss unaware of your surroundings as they blur, speed by in a moment’s notice captured in time. For 3 minutes you are in heavenly bliss and ready to move on in your journey or slap down a few bills to experience the stomach acids munching away like a Pacman in a shark-infested, blood-thirsty orgy.
Now, what better soundtrack to infiltrate your gastronomic gullet. Well, pull up a well-worn bar stool and let me tell you tales of yore of when alligators lived beneath the cityscape, steam escaped from the grates in the early morning as party revelers, junkies, prostitutes, and lost tourists mingled in solidarity under the dawn skies rubbing their sleep-encrusted eyes and ready for a healthy measure of New York Junk.
Dreaming was recorded in Prague, the Czech Republic in 2019, then mixed and mastered in February 2020, and now served up to you as a blood-red vinyl release or, for those people on the grooving move, as a CD and or download.
New York Junk's Dreaming is their fourth release-- prior output was as follows: Passion of the 10th St. Blues (2008), Doing Time in New York City (2014), and 7 Train (2018) but, neophytes, don't let that ruse your blues. There is hope in saving rock 'n' roll one guitar string at a time. These are seasoned with the finest ingredients made up of versatile veterans spoon-feeding you NYC during its finest twilight's last gleaning. Hell, during these days of non-existent travel you won't have to leave your cushioned derriere as you can be propelled to a time when there was no stopping the cretins from hopping. New York Junk is comprised of Max’s Kansas City and CBGBs stalwart Joe Sztabnik (who I might add also wrote “Poison Heart” with Dee Dee Ramone). B-Girls, bong-breaking bassist Cynthia Ross is no stranger to danger and has collaborated with a Dead Boy and Blondie. Rounding out the trio is skin crusher Gary Barnett who has mingled with Joe since 1975. Hell, their first gig together was opening for Mr. Thunders.
As a young fellow once exclaimed to me with limited knowledge of music, “I think this is real rock 'n' roll." Yes indeed son, it is.
Joe is a songwriter who can encapsulate a time that was -- and currently is, if you look for it. Don't be flummoxed into believing when Mr. Simmons bellows “Rock a'n' Roll is dead”. It damn well isn't you lazy sods. New York Junk is a healthy immunization for the future... Lift your hands and rejoice in the rock 'n' roll resurrection. Feel the spirit enter your body and flip over that red slab in isolation sending undulating tremors of endorphins slam dancing and pogoing all over your loving heart...
Put your best foot forward with your Chuck Berry duck walk, your Thunders sneering guitar with a little Wop Bop a Loo Bop, and a hop, hit, and a junk to the Wildside. Flashing neon to quarter filling booths. Take a slice of this big red apple spinning on an axis and wallow in poignant penned poetry celebrating human foible.
Doesn't get much sweeter than this New York Junk are pure Turkish Elvish honey and at a fraction of the price
