Words by Sean Moeller, Illustration by Johnnie Cluney, Sound engineering by Mike Gentry
Should kids need inspiration to be delinquent, they need look no further than Boulder, Colorado's Rose Hill Drive. And should these impressionable kids need a better reason to play hooky from class, sneak behind the bleachers for a dirty cigarette or to have sex with their hot, older girlfriend - should they need any more good reasons to grow all of their hair long, on head and lip - these three men are the apostles. They should be regarded and treated as such. They should stimulate a knee-jerk reaction of their subjects avoiding all eye contact and wondering, always wondering if they should fetch their heroes another cold beer - how much do they have left, do they need that cocktail freshened up? Should these kids need a better reason to give themselves amateur-ish tattoos or to hate jocks, this band can represent them - they can be their big brothers, the big brothers that they never had. Rose Hill Drive speaks on behalf of and for this entire clan of kids, liable to spend inordinate amounts of money at record stores with dusty boxes full of old vinyl records and to be awed by certain hard-heeled boots and heavy-duty belt buckles. Rose Hill Drive could be - as a band - the enabler that any high school or young college kid could ever want, should they be wrestling with that age-old life decision of cutting straight for the cubicle job or saying fuck it to most things and just continuing with never growing up - just living for the simple pleasures: ringing ears, salty dames and being enamored with Deep Purple LP covers or any footage from the Monterey Pop Festival. They'd think nothing of handing over a 12-pack outside the 7-Eleven if they'd been approached moments before, out behind the store the store, by a pack of nervous, but brave underagers needing a little help scoring some brews, bribing them with a wad of cash - more than was needed, but the thirsty kids don't know the going rate for beer these days. They might even try to bum some smokes if they're feeling swarthy and ballsy enough. Rose Hill Drive turn it up full blast and as they walk by you or swing their arms just a bit, the smell of good pot comes pouring off of them. It's a refreshing sensation, like when you open the windows for the first time, come the first hints of spring, or when you keep them open into the first steps of autumn as the crispness sets in. That's the body odor and pot smell combination that you're always looking for. It stands for authenticity and it stands for rock and fuckin' roll.