Seattle’s Massy Ferguson roar back into action with another album which is the musical equivalent of what you might expect to find in a store called “Joe’s Meat & Grocery” – no fripperies, just the basics, good, solid, and nutritious. Over several albums, the band have consistently delivered the goods, hard driving rock music with an occasional alt-country edge. Looking back over past reviews we’ve mentioned the likes of Uncle Tupelo, Drive By Truckers and The Lemonheads in comparison and this remains the case here.

The opening Miles Away arrives amidst a haze of guitars before erupting into a powerful organ and piano fuelled cry of despair (and, ultimately hope) that doesn’t seem a million miles removed from the strictures of the pandemic. As a song it soars, it’s of a type which one usually hears at the end of an album but here it stamps the band’s authority as they end it with an almighty thrash. There are several songs in a similar manner, foreboding, powerful, epic if you wish. Backspin has thunderous percussion and portentous, almost apocalyptic lyrics as the band pummel away reminding one of The Hoodoo Gurus while Sister Roll Up is a claustrophobic ride with squirrelling blues harmonica echoing throughout the tunnel. In contrast, The Road Ahead is panoramic as it builds to a thunderous climax with singer Ethan Anderson painting a picture worthy of Cormac McCarthy’s The Road before Anderson recalls his Pentecostal upbringing in the barrelling rock’n’roll of The Hard Six. With Anderson playing flute here and with Fred Slater flying on piano, the song is a bit of a blitzkrieg.

No less listenable, several of the songs dial back the thunder. Save What Couldn’t Be Saved is a tumbledown saloon bar tale of those cast out from the American dream – made redundant, hooked on drugs, lost and lonely. I Don’t Know Why does remind one of The Lemonheads with its wistful mix of thrash and pop hooks allied to a rush of jangled guitars and there’s more jangle on the country rock of Off To See Rose, while they close the album with a song which, live, could become a boozy sing-along on You Don’t Bother Me At All.

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There’s not much you can depend on in these topsy-turvy days but when a new album from Seattle’s Massy Ferguson heaves into sight, you can be guaranteed an invigorating injection of classic American rock. There’s no pretence with this band, it’s balls to the wall Americana with an emphasis on rocking out; short sharp songs with guitars blazing away and Ethan Anderson’s voice roaring. Back to a four piece with the addition of Fred Starr on keyboards joining the bass playing Anderson along with guitarist Adam Monda and Dave Goedde on drums, the band dive headlong into the songs. The album is more focused than the previous Run It Right Into The Wall (which reflected their love of the likes of The Replacements, Wilco, and Son Volt) with more emphasis on stories within the songs. Anderson puts some of this down to reading stories by Raymond Carver, Willie Vlautin and such and several of the numbers are autobiographical as on the opening Can’t Remember which is an account of first meeting his wife to be.

Can’t Remember is a frantic opener with pedal steel added to the vortex of squirreling guitars with Anderson recalling his altered teenage state and the waitress who eventually stuck with him. This youthful abandon is revisited throughout the album. Don’t Give Up On Your Friends is a shout out the gang mentality of teenagers delivered in a style not dissimilar to that of The Lemonheads, while They Want That Sound struts with the cocksure bravado of a teenager out on the town as Anderson recalls glory days and the band ramp it up like a youthful E Street Band. Momma’s In The Backseat is the epitome of this teenage gang romance as it all goes wrong on a late night rumble with the hero just wanting to wrap himself in his Star Wars comfort blanket when he gets home but unable to admit to that.

The mature Anderson turns up on Wolf Moon, the most tender song here with keening pedal steel, languid guitar and stately piano as he reflects on life’s lessons while Drop An Atom Bomb On Me, a song which has the punch of the Drive By Truckers, is an angst-riven apocalyptic mea culpa. Alongside these there’s the coiled energy of Rerun with its staccato guitar bursts and power pop keyboards and the elegiac Saddest Man, a glorious slice of sound.

All in all Great Divides is another great album from Massy Ferguson. They’re touring the UK in July, all dates here.