King of Gasoline by Joyriders: A Raw Slice of ‘90s UK Rock
Released in 1992, King of Gasoline is one of those albums that grabs you by the scruff and doesn’t let go. The Joyriders, hailing from the UK, deliver a garage rock-meets-indie rock punch that's as gritty as it is unforgettable. Backed by Avalanche Records, this record feels like a time capsule of early '90s underground energy—raw, unpolished, and all the better for it.
The band’s chemistry shines through every track. You’ve got Murdo MacLeod on vocals, bringing a raspy charm that fits perfectly with Dunsy’s jagged guitar riffs. Craig Smith lays down some serious basslines while Rick Heller keeps things tight on drums. Iain Beveridge pulls double duty as both engineer and producer, capturing the chaos without losing clarity—a balancing act many bands struggle with.
Let’s dive into two tracks that stick out like sore thumbs (in the best way). First up, “King of Gasoline.” It’s hard not to get hooked by its swaggering groove. The opening riff hits like a revved-up engine, setting the tone for what feels like a rebellious joyride. Murdo’s voice has this lived-in grit, like he’s telling stories over cheap beer at your local pub. There’s no pretense here; just pure, unfiltered attitude. And when the chorus kicks in, it’s impossible not to hum along—even if you’re terrible at singing.
Then there’s “All Overboard,” which flips the script slightly. If “King of Gasoline” is about revving up, this one feels more introspective but still packs a punch. The rhythm section—Craig and Rick—really shines here, locking into a hypnotic groove that makes the song feel bigger than it probably was intended to be. It's the kind of tune that sneaks up on you after a few listens, revealing layers you didn’t notice before. By the second verse, you’ll find yourself nodding along, wondering how something so simple can hit so deep.
Of course, no review would be complete without mentioning the production quality—or lack thereof. Don’t expect glossy sheen or radio-friendly polish. This is garage rock at its core: rough edges, imperfect takes, and an authenticity that screams louder than any studio trickery ever could. In fact, it’s these imperfections that make King of Gasoline stand out. It’s real, it’s messy, and it’s damn proud of it.
Looking back now, it’s wild to think this album came out nearly three decades ago. Bands today spend fortunes chasing that elusive "vintage sound," yet they often miss the point entirely. Joyriders nailed it without trying too hard, proving that sometimes less really is more.
Final thought? Listening to King of Gasoline feels like finding an old mixtape in your car’s glove compartment—unexpectedly nostalgic and oddly comforting. Who knew gasoline could smell so sweet?
