GREEN GRANADAS
I first met the Green Granadas when doing a gig on the west coast of Norway. Deep in the landscape of fjords, way up in the mountains, where the air is clear and fresh. Where the water is ice cold and blue. Where pollution and global warming are words the population don't use. When I arrived at the hotel I saw their poster next to mine and it told me everything. This band is real. We had two shows each during the weekend, a double billing at the same joint. At the soundcheck I spotted Gretsch guitars, zebrasuits, leopardshirts, platform shoes and brylcream. This I had to see...
The place was all but packed when they came on, and I was kinda worried. We'd been told that there was some big, slick countryact at a bigger venue nearby and that everyone in this smalltown had gone there. But man, did they pull it off. These nice, quiet guys from all over the country (I still wonder how they hooked up with eachother) started with high octane from the first song. And it rocked. Like nothing I've heard live in my whole life. I suddenly found myself understanding how people lost it and went bananas when rock'n'roll first came. The Green Granadas could scream like Little Richard, rock it like Chuck Berry, groove it like Buddy Holly and hit like Buddy Rich. Even Johnny Cash couldn't stop this train. Jerry Lee could have shot them to death and they'd still be kickin' ass on that stage. The whole barn was shaking, people were swingin' and the bartenders were rockin'. They sold a lot of beer that night. It was great. We all loved them.
This is the kind of band people will travel far to see live. While they're sitting backstage after a show drinking mysteriously strong coffee with sweat soaking their cool cat-clothes and you go home feeling better than in a long, long time remember this; Rock'n'roll is hard work. It can't be stopped. It's the only type of music everyone can dig when it's done right. The Green Granadas are doing it right. They can beat anyone, any day. They sound real, they play it real and they are for real. In every sence of the word real. If they're not recording vocals in the hotel bathroom, they're at the emergency waiting for Rod Hot to get crutches and bandage. This is IT, folks.
Freddie Frantic, Killy, Rod Hot, Slick Pick and Allen D Rocker aren't desperately holding on to a time long gone. They're taking it further. This will become a killer album. Play it LOUD.
Sincerely,
-ORBO-
ORBO & The Longshots
