Not too long ago, singer-songwriter Eric Carlin had a bunch of songs banging and clattering around in his head, begging for some permanence. So he assembled The Flood with a team of killer musicians who are the Rochester music scene's equivalent to Murder, Inc., and marched into the studio.
Now I don't mean the music is violent, but who wants to debate whether or not Kurt Johnson is a killer guitarist? (I once saw him play the pedal steel with an Allen wrench, for Chrissake.) Or that Tony Gallicchio doesn't slay 'em with the Hammond M3? But Johnson's soaring tone and flight are anchored by Gallicchio's earthy runs, fills, and picturesque chords on "The Flood."
The whole self-titled album is a keen display of all its musicians' sepia and Technicolor back-and-forth as it renders Carlin's songs immortal. The song selection is consistent despite assorted sorties under the jam umbrella and all the styles huddled there under. Other than the protracted length of some of the cuts and the group's easy going lope, the jam references end there. This band is a flood of influences as it name suggests and the album proves.