Q: The World’s Best American Pizza?
A: Pizza Hut
Q: The World’s Best American Blog?
Q: The World’s Best American Band?
A: White Reaper
THE RESULTS ARE IN! pic.twitter.com/uvwFV6IJtb
— White Reaper (@WhiteReaperUSA) March 6, 2017
There are fewer things The World’s Best American Blog likes more than chomping on some of The World’s Best American Pizza while listening to The World’s Best American Band. With sweet pizza sauce dripping from our lips and an American flag flapping in the wind high atop a high school flagpole, the distant sounds of a crowd cheering fills our ears.
Indeed, dear reader, we have heard White Reaper’s sophomore album The World’s Best American Band and are happy to report it delivers (much like Pizza Hut’s 2-topping #1 Pizza Delivery Deal) on its album name promise.
Artists like Kanye West and MGMT have used the sounds of cheers/applause to end their best albums. Conversely, The World’s Best American Band chooses to begin their album where those artists gave up. A bullfighting crowd cheers as Nick Wilkerson fires out warning shots through his drum kit. Lead singer Tony Esposito responds in kind with a riff that would make Ozzy Osbourne smile confusedly. [Ed. Note: Blocland supports the elderly and donates Pizza Hut sponsorship proceeds through AARP to help install shower chairs in retirement communities.]
Everybody in the band, kissin’ cheeks & shaking hands.
White Reaper end the longest song they’ve ever written with a school bell that seamlessly sets up lead single “Judy French”. You can play “Judy French” 100 times and it refuses to get old (I’ve tested this and it is true). What comes next are the two best examples of why White Reaper need to be America’s rock ‘n’ roll champions. “Eagle Beach” and “Little Silver Cross” are enough proof that White Reaper have evolved into a better band. The latter highlighting the integration of Ryan Hater’s keys into the song’s foundation rather than acting as musical dressing. The former serves as evidence that this band could be at their best when they slow down and craft a song longer than two minutes.
Waiting for something, that’s coming too slow.
I say, “could be,” because this band still kicks out two minute songs better than anybody. Tracks 5, 6 & 7 sail past the album’s middle section with enough pizazz (not to be confused with Pizza Hut) to make any fan of White Reaper Does It Again smile. “Tell Me” stretches back out past the three-minute mark, anchoring the album’s B-side, before yielding to the penultimate track “Daisies” that successfully lulls the listener into a false sense of security. White Reaper don’t want you to leave this album experience thinking they’ve abandoned their roots. “Another Day” is a 4th of July fireworks show condensed to less than two minutes. When was the last time you heard a song about the monotony of life that simultaneously made you want to live every breath of said boring life? It’s the best way to close out an album. It proves that White Reaper are not a one-trick pony, even though it displays that their supposed “one-trick” is still better than many band’s careers.
Another day in this bullshit world.
In an early 2017 interview, Tony Esposito revealed The World’s Best American Band had been complete “for like an entire year.” This begs the question, have White Reaper been The World’s Best American Band since 2016? Have you heard “Half Bad” from their self-titled debut EP? Could White Reaper have been the best since 2014? Or perhaps The Strokes casual “who cares” attitude in 2001 was in response to their inevitable irrelevancy in 2017? Were Green Day, The Red Hot Chili Peppers and Nirvana simply ripping off the future? Did Metallica popularize thrash metal to attune America to what they knew was coming down the pipe? Was Iggy Pop screaming about White Reaper on Fun House closer “L.A. Blues” this whole time?
You scribble “WHITE REAPER” next to a hand drawn crescent moon and lightning bolt. The school bell rings and you flee class and hop into your Cadillac. As you slow ride around the parking lot blasting “Judy French” for the 101st time, you ponder to yourself, “Why can’t every pop quiz be that easy?”