It's typical for one to get nostalgic about the good old days before the responsibilities of mortgage, bills and family get in the way of being young, dumb and reckless. But in the case of the Lanternjack, the band mostly reflects upon a rock 'n' roll era when sex and drugs became a lyrical mainstay, razor blades were used as a stage prop and beating yourself up was considered shocking.
Not that the Lanternjack is a bunch of nostalgic old men who are going retro for the sake of looking down on everyone who were too young to appreciate the whisky- and blood-soaked Iggy performances at the Michigan Union Ballroom. Rather, these guys follow in the footsteps of fellow Detroiters (i.e. Murder City Wrecks, the Clone Defects) who just want to rock out without the use of synthesizers, sensitivity or melody.
It could be the early incarnations of the Stooges, the MC5 and Alice Cooper who planted the seeds for the '90s generations of Detroit sleaze rock. But regardless of who the guilty parties are, the debut of the Lanternjack's Little Beast is another chapter of bands that represent the attitude of being raw and trashy with the accompanied presence of a middle finger.