Bodeco, Louisville Kentucky’s all-time mightiest rhythm machine, according to Jeffrey Lee Puckett of the Courier-Journal, has been performing for over 20 years. The band has been written up in the Chicago Sun-Times, No Depression, the LA Village View, the Louisville Courier-Journal, Spin, the New Review of Records, Raygun, and CMJ New Music Monthly, just to name a few. Fronted by wild man Ricky Feather, joined by bassist Jimmy Brown, “Southside” Freddie Wethington on lead guitar, Gene Wickliffe on drums, and Gary Stillwell on keyboards, you’re in for a gritty/grimy rock’n’roll ride of debauchery. This album is a slinky, raw-edged stew of good old rock’n’roll in the vain of Carl Perkins, the Stones, Bo Diddley, and Booker T., all put together with a smart sensibility.
Jeffrey Lee Puckett of the Courier-Journal (12/18/09) writes: "Bodeco's mission has always been to make you shake it. That seems easy, maybe even trivial, but it's neither. Rock 'n' roll bands can inspire fighting, flailing and falling, but dancing can be painfully elusive. It's like there's a magic button and it's hiding. Bodeco can find the button within 10 seconds and then massage it until your scalp is tingling. This is what the band has done for 25 years, using rock's most primitive tools to build the perfect groove — guitar, bass and percussion locked so tight as to make you squeal. All of those parents in the 1950s were right to be scared; rock 'n' roll, and Bodeco, is the sound of sex. On “Soul Boost,” a five-song EP, songwriter Rick Feather distills the band's history into “I Ain't Lyin'” and its trophy case of influences, from Chuck Berry to surf to punk. “Hush Hush Naughty Baby” is also vintage Bodeco while the title cut adds a warm splash of the MGs."
Their music is the “kind of thing that motivates people to pack their bags, move to Memphis and jam, man.”—J.R. Griffin, Huh magazine
“Bodeco’s inspiring mix of twang and holler is first rate.”—LA Village View
“Ricky Feather cackles like Screaming Jay, deadpanning like a Nashville rogué, while the band shifts mood at will.”—Michael Wiener, Raygun
“Freakishly authentic, they hark back to that era when hillbillies recorded tinny, scratchy mono 45s for long-gone labels. Their sparse recorded output belies the decades of experience that has made them a well-stoked, freewheeling swamp-rock nightmare. Jimmy Brown chugs like a crack-fueled locomotive beneath the smoky guitar gnarl and the amazing vocals of Rick Feather, who howls like a frenzied, braying Loup-garou on Night Train.”—Rick Reger, the Chicago-Sun Times
They’re “on a par with sheer audio debauchery with acts such as Rev. Horton Heat and Southern Culture on the Skids. The band’s approach to music is refreshingly non-posing and pure, something that the band has learned from its influences and predecessors.”--Mike Breen, No Depression