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Listen, forget that the last official Caged Heat record, the flash metal tinged “Serious Action” came out almost half a dozen years ago, or that THIS one was originally recorded-and-almost-released (with a rawer, more stripped-down and semi-acoustic sound) a cuppla years ago. In fact, I wrote liner notes for that versh of the record, and I wish I could find ‘em now, cuz they were brilliant. At least I remember them being brilliant. The point is, between then and now there’s been years, too many years, worth of dirt luck and bad trouble, of smoke on the water and fire in the sky, yet nothing, and I mean NOTHING, can kill Caged Heat. Their bleeding light, the harmonica-wailing, devil-riffing firebrand Jill Kurtz, is back in black, Jack, with a fistful of classic blues-punk tunes and a tight new (ish) band of outlaw rockers. She’s a little thinner, sure, and she’s got a lotta toe-curling tales to tell, but she’s just as beautiful and powerful and wildly  WICKED as ever, and this is clearly the finest hour for the almighty ‘Heat. I mean, just listen to this stuff – dig the cocky glam-blues riff, the warm, flowing harmonica solo, and the insanely catchy pop chorus on “Jennifer” (bonus points for Jill’s effortless Axl-isms on the Oh-oh-oh parts, too), the countrified Stones-y jam of “On the Sly”, with it’s delicate finger-picking and Jill’s heartbreaking cigarette rasp, or the snarly punk kiss-offs of certifiable hits “Out of” and “Betty” – there isn’t a band in the land that can write rock n’ roll songs this timeless, songs that reach back 50-60 years for inspiration, yet still sound as fresh and inviting as this morning’s I-love-you’s. The production on this ‘un (by the band and Andrew Mazzone, with mastering by our ol’ pals Coke Dealer, natch) is flawless, with the intricate instrumentation popping right out of the speakers – Bo Barringer’s bass sounds like boots dropping on yr living room floor, Jill’s guitar pours all over everything, covering the walls and the ceiling like a coat of deep cobalt blue- and the performances are top notch. Even the parts where Jill’s voice cracks sound like they were SUPPOSED to happen, at that very second.

Caged Heat have been the best live band in Boston for many, many years, and they finally managed to capture their pure rock firepower on tape. Which, I reckon, makes ‘em the best band in Boston, period. It’s about time the rest of the world caught up, too. Jill Kurtz is the baddest of all bad ass rock chicks, her band is a flick-knife wielding gang of RN’R animals, and “Caged Heat” is gonna knock you flat, lift your wallet, and STILL leave you smiling. I guarantee it.
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-Sleazegrinder