The BellRays, featuring husband wife Bob Vennum and Lisa Kekaula, are a seminal, fiery rock’n’roll band that have criss-crossed the ever-changing country for decades. Unfazed, they remain defiantly excellent – a sustained force that fuses together the promise of rock’n’roll as both liberty-defining and sweat-inducing. And Rudyards will provide an intimate backdrop to their guts and glory romp as they debut tunes from Punk Funk Rock Soul Vol II (Hunnypot Unlimited) – likely including the forceful crunch of “Love and Hard Times” and the seductive slow blues whir of “Every Chance I Get.”
Singer Lisa Kekaula, who is part African-American and Hawaiian, stand and delivers. Her roots-deepened, sonorous repertoire of whiplash soul taps into punk’s nervy force and rigor. Though left out of most histories, which is baffling and prejudiced, black women have remained an intrinsic part of the core, from the Controllers and X-Ray Spex in the 1970s and Mutley Chix and Fire Party in the 1980s to Tribe 8 and the BellRays in the 1990s and others beyond. But Kekaula has gained more attention by appearing on tunes by inventive house music masters Basement Jaxx and electronic cognoscenti the Crystal Method.
Incredible dynamism and dizzying power are the propellants behind The BellRays, who remain a quintessential squad that converges dizzying Detroit rock’n’roll (the Stooges) licks and vintage scorcher Tina Turner with AC/DC (whose “Highway to Hell” they zealously cover) and more, erupting like a hella blast of guitar rumble, battering ram drums, and coiled bass. Kekaula’s frenetic, deep-throated, wailing roots-gone-punk vocals are a mighty force of untamed nature. And, just as Kekaula regularly touts from stage, "This is a rock show!" the band becomes a wall-of-sound that proves such truth.
In the last few years, their Punk Funk Rock Soul tour offered toughened rock’alongs like “Mine All Mine,” which should have caused a million fist pumps in the air as the narrator tries to recover from “the hole inside where soul should be.” Yet, spiels like “Shake Your Snake,” funk-merited ala Sly and Family Stone, resonates with a syncopated groove fashioned around the invocation “left, right, shake” that separates “the men from the mammals.” Infectious and limber, it curlicues around a slithering beat, while “I Don’t Wanna Cry” bemoans lost love that results from mistaking money and material goods for acts of affection. Organ blares, soaring vocals, and a thumping backbeat create a backdrop to the weary heart thrown down on the ground.
In all, across 30 EPs, singles, and albums released by myriad small and smaller labels, they have remained a battering ram against homogenization, a symbol of convergence culture, and a tribute to the spirit of keeping music divorced from the dumbed-down, devouring jaw of corporate entities. Hallelujah, you might find yourself saying in the heat while watching rock’n’roll get saved one song at a time.
-David Ensminger (Houston Press)
John Anderson | janderson@hunnypotunlimited.com | Hunnypot Unlimited LLC
