Words by Sean Moeller, Illustration by Johnnie Cluney, Recording engineered by Mike Gentry
Those who live within the streaks and hallways of Leroy Justice songs are men who seem to have conviction like it's nobody's business. They have galvanized backbones and stiff, iron jaws. They've discovered who they want to be and they're off being it. There ain't nobody, no how that's gonna stand in their ways once they fire up those motors and start roaring. They've got steely focus and they'll bore holes through naysayers, liars, scabs and lazy bones.
The music feels as if it comes three drinks into a conversation, where the cheeks are getting red as the blood heats up and the inhibitions stand down, the confidence doing most of the talking, convinced that it knows the way without a map in sight. These are men who have always relied heavily on the gut instincts to guide them and - up to this point - they've proven themselves to be reliable. They believe in their instincts, as they get applied to experience, and they have seen that when they're right, they're really right and when they're wrong - well, tough shit, they're wrong. At least they went for it. They put their dicks out there and sometimes that will bite ya. Sometimes it will be all teeth.
The songs that the band from New York City chose to play in this session are a collection of stories of goading and daring, of tempting some others to man up and grab some conviction of their own, something that they can hang their hats on when judgment day comes around for them, giving them something to offer other than a blush and a stammer when the last one asks. There are doors that are dared to be walked through and roads dared to be taken. Then there are others who have figured themselves out - fallen enough times to know how to break one, to know how to cushion it and then how to dress up the scrapes and gashes that still inevitably attach themselves across a good skin.