Welcome to another edition of From My Collection. Unfortunately, the reaper has been working a double shift this summer, and seems to show no sign of slowing down. The latest to get caught in his crosshairs is David Roach, lead singer of Junkyard, who passed away last Friday, August 1st, after a courageous battle with cancer. He was 59. Towards the end of 2021, we had the pleasure of catching Junkyard rock the humble quarters of LiveWire Lounge, a stone’s throw away from this here journalist’s house. For those interested in reading that review and viewing those pictures, click here. And for those who’d like to take a trip down memory lane, join us as we pay homage with a retrospective look back at the band’s eponymous debut album.
Come the latter half of the ’80s, in an effort to keep up with the times, many early ’80s hardcore acts found themselves hopping aboard the metal bandwagon. Now in most of these cases, these bands would adopt a thrashier sound, reminiscent of the very crop they inspired in the first place. In other words, think the student teaching the teacher (i.e. Corrosion of Conformity, Raw Power, Dr. Know). However, there is a microcosm of this movement that’s seldom spoken of, and that’s an embrace of a sleazy hard rock sound akin to the ’70s stylings of Aerosmith, KISS, and so forth. This can be heard in the late ’80s output of acts like SSD, TSOL, and yes, the subject of today’s essay, Junkyard.
Although Junkyard formed in 1987, making them a “new” act in comparison to the aforementioned SSD and TSOL, their members already boasted serious punk rock pedigree. Drummer Patrick Muzingo played for a slew of hardcore acts and was one of the earliest skaters in L.A. Fellow skateboard pioneer, Tony Alva, also played in an early incarnation of the band as bassist. Eventually, the lineup stabilized with the addition of Texas transplant David Roach on vocals, Chris Gates on guitars, Clay Anthony on bass, and Brian Baker on guitars. By ’89, Baker was already a hardcore legend, having played for not one but two groundbreaking acts: Minor Threat and Dag Nasty. I could only imagine the reaction from those in the hardcore scene when picking up the debut platter from his then latest vehicle.
When Junkyard released their debut album, the hard rock scene of the era was becoming more commercial and polished with each passing week. Much of what was being pedaled by the major labels and MTV as “hard rock” was not even hard rock, but rather bubblegum pop rock with slightly distorted guitars. The shock and awe attack of Guns N’ Roses’ Appetite for Destruction (1987) left tremors throughout the Sunset Strip for years to follow, as if to signal to aspiring hard rock acts, “It’s our way or the highway.” Junkyard stood in solidarity with GN’R, fusing their punk rock ethos with this stripped down musical approach, and subsequently creating one of the greatest hidden gems in hard rock history.
Despite its name, the opening “Blooze” is anything but a blues tune. Instead, we’re walloped with a reckless high speed rock n’ roller that lies at the crossroads of classic Motörhead and Aerosmith in their drugged out prime. It’s fast and ferocious, playing like the musical equivalent of a train about to fly off the rails, only staying on track thanks to its steadfast determination and unrelenting power. Few bands can kick ass so hard with an album opener alone, and in the never ending debate of best first songs on first albums, “Blooze” needs to be in the discussion.
“Hot Rod” follows, and it’s equal measure sleaze, swagger, and southern comfort, the cultural concept and the drink! One can’t deny the influence of redneck rock royalty like ZZ Top and Lynyrd Skynyrd on this one, the latter especially thanks to a rip-roaring brass section who melds perfectly with the twin axe attack of Baker and Gates. If “Hot Rod” had come out 15 years earlier, Junkyard would’ve been playing it on The Midnight Special alongside the likes of Black Oak Arkansas and Bo Diddley.
Speaking of Skynyrd, their old producer and collaborator, Al Kooper, makes an appearance on not one, but two songs on this album, “Simple Man” (not to be confused with the Skynyrd song of the same name) being the first. The perks of a major label budget, am I right?! Kooper lays down some delicate keys on this singalong ballad, while veteran guitarist Earl Slick unleashes some flavorful slide guitar. Like the two songs that proceed it, “Simple Man” lies closer to the honest to goodness stylings of the ’70s than the more is more ’80s.
The speed and aggression dials are cranked to overdrive on “Shot in the Dark”: The perfect song to get our blood pumping after the laidback “Simple Man”. What’s really impressive about Junkyard, especially on this album, is their ability to sell ballads and rockers with the same level of conviction. Whereas most ballads on major label hard rock releases come ’89 felt forced and contractually obligated, “Simple Man” oozes heart and soul, as does “Shot in the Dark” in its own way, hence why the two can coexist next to each other in sequence.
Closing out side A is the single, “Hollywood”. Upon revisiting this album, it makes sense that “Hollywood” was chosen as “the single”. Its very structure feels commercial, or at least as commercial as Junkyard could naturally be. It rocks hard, but not as hard as “Shot in the Dark” or “Blooze”. Its shout-along chorus is its bread and butter, almost tailormade for legions to yell in unison, “That’s life in Hollywood!” Considering the universal appeal of similarly natured cuts/archetypes like AC/DC’s “Back in Black” or Aerosmith’s “Walk This Way”, “Hollywood” makes sense and serves its purpose.
As we flip over to side B, our necks are given another workout with the rapid fire blitz that is “Life Sentence”. By this point of the album, I’m convinced with heftier guitars and a lo-fi production, Junkyard could’ve been a full blown speed metal act in the vein of Motörhead or Venom. In an era where even thrash, metal’s most extreme subgenre to penetrate the mainstream at that point, was becoming formulaic and trite, an old school rager like “Life Sentence” was a breath of fresh air.
“Long Way Home” slows down the pace drastically, yet without sacrificing any of the heaviness or balls of the album. An exercise in heavy blues, “Long Way Home” is a raw, painful crawl that’s equal measures Stones and Sabbath. Roach shouts n’ howls his ass off, while the rest of the band holds down the fort with a throbbing four on the floor rhythm, heavy-handed riffs, and again, those Slick slide guitars. Having done time with David Bowie, Ian Hunter, and even John Lennon, Slick was as well respected a professional a label could ask for in ’89. Junkyard, or rather Geffen (or perhaps both?), called, and he understood the assignment.
Compared to the rest of the album, “Can’t Hold Back” has a rather “safe” feel to it, akin to “Hollywood”. In other words, if Geffen wanted to release it as a single, they could’ve. The accessible side of ’70s Aerosmith comes to mind, thanks to those infectious vocal harmonies, hip-shaking guitars, and power pop-esque arrangement. We’re then transported from “Hollywood” to “Texas”…literally! Talk about a world tour of an album! As mentioned earlier, Roach originally hailed from the Lone Star State, so this down south, whiskey fueled boogie stomp fits the bill. If this one doesn’t get you dancing, I don’t know what will!
Rounding it all out is one of my favorite ballads of all time, “Hands Off”. Kooper appears yet again to tickle the ivories as Roach delivers raw lyrics and an equally raw vocal performance over an old timey country backdrop. Perhaps it’s because the lyrics are so relatable, but there’s something about “Hands Off” (especially that last verse about Roach’s girl sleeping with his best friend) that scorches my very soul, which is what a compelling ballad should do. Put “Hands Off” next to any other major label hard rock power ballad of the day and see which has aged better. If there ever was an argument for the less is more approach, it’s this song.
Unfortunately, Junkyard failed to do much in the way of commercial success, likely coming off as too raw and ballsy for the hair metal crowd, but not heavy enough for the thrashers. This was a problem faced by virtually every hard rock and metal act that didn’t fall into one of these two pigeonholes come the late ’80s and early ’90s, but that’s another topic for another day. They’d release one more album on Geffen, 1991’s Sixes, Sevens & Nines, before folding in 1991. Baker would go back to his hardcore roots, joining Bad Religion in 1994 and remaining with them ever since.
As for Junkyard, they’d reform in the late ’90s, and continue to tour the world and create new music up until this year. While the passing of Roach almost certainly marks the end of Junkyard, his rock n’ roll legacy will live on forever. He was a man who always stuck to his guns, never sold out, and kept it true ’til the end. He walked the walk AND talked the talk. Roach was part of a dying breed, and we’re just grateful to have been along for the ride. Rest in power Roach! Long live Junkyard!
I was lucky enough to see them when they toured this album at a small club in Boston, MA called the Channel, it was a glorious shithole of a venue that I saw many many shows at. This one stands out. Always loved this record and thought it deserved more attention. Great review, didn’t realize that was Al Kooper.
Side note: opening act that night was also memorable. The Black Crowes.
In 1990, as a 20-year-old British kid, I bought a month-long travel pass for Greyhound in the US. On one overnight bus trip from somewhere to somewhere, I got chatting with some bloke across the aisle about music. He turned out to be Clay Anthony, bassist in Junkyard. He was just a really friendly lad, just a couple of years or so older than me, and we chewed the fat about music, including Junkyard’s new album, until we arrived at our destination at dawn the next day. Thus, thanks very much for the trip down memory lane!